


Too Busy Being Yours

by SquishySterek (Herm_own_ninny)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Stiles, Convention, Cussing, Depression mention, Emissary!Stiles Stilinski, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, MCD, Magic Stiles, Mild fight scene at the beginning, Minor Character Death, Playlist, Some sexy times sprinkled throughout, Steter - Freeform, Stiles has a bit of a nickname, Stiles is a music major, Wedding, alpha!peter hale, constant fighting, death mention, event piece, little bit of a college AU, new pack members, torture mention, unhealthy relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-21 04:16:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 28,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14908151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Herm_own_ninny/pseuds/SquishySterek
Summary: Stiles and Peter are just trying to navigate their life together.Stiles is still dealing with issues from the Nogitsune, of feeling worthless to his pack and trying to navigate life with newfound powers.Peter struggles with an alpha he doesn't understand, and then coming to power himself. When he finally does, he loses everything important when he drives Stiles away.They reconnect, but there is a danger looking over them.Who's to say how it will really turn out in the end?A Playlist piece for the 2018 14k Steter Reverse Bang!





	1. Black Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CinnamonLily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinnamonLily/gifts).



> My talented artist created a [playlist and moodboard](http://ohthepretty.tumblr.com/post/174919176159/heres-my-art-for-14k-steter-the-lovely) that I was able to write from for this 14k Steter Reverse Bang.  
> I had an absolutely wonderful time working on this fic, and the encouragement I received was plentiful and… encouraging! Aha.  
> I have written the piece in a style where each chapter is around one song, which I would like to suggest putting said song on repeat until you can move on to the next one(but who am I to tell you how to read? Do this however you need to!)  
> Each chapter title is the song it is paired with. There is a [YouTube playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLimeaQ5HHMRx_cBro3Oxz5OBfQW8wPXSR) and a [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/12150659721/playlist/41Sgg98KqhAGVYp8j2WhE7?si=zx5p-YScRPCIRfjvz6UTLA).  
> I hope you enjoy reading!
> 
> ***A disclaimer about the MCD***  
> It is not Stiles or Peter. Many have had that fear, but it is not over them.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daddy I've fallen for a monster  
> Somehow he's scaring me to death  
> He's big and he's bad  
> I love him like mad  
> Momma, he's the best I ever had  
> Daddy I've fallen for a monster  
> He got a black heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>   
> 

Peter was roaring with rage as he took on the two betas that had been at the door, beating them down, slashing into them. He was about to go for the kill. Stiles was on his toes, watching the scene hungrily, when Scott roared and grabbed Peter’s hand, restricting the movement and flashing his eyes red.  
“We don't kill. They leave and don't return,” He growled, tightening his grip on Peter’s wrist when he tried to pull his arm back.  
“They kidnapped and tortured our emissary, Scott. Let me rough them up a little more,” Peter argued, digging his claws on his free hand into the chest of one of the betas, growling deep in his chest. “Let me rip their hearts out.”  
“You touch my betas again and your pitiful excuse for an emissary is dead.”  
Derek, Peter and Scott snapped their attention towards the alpha walking forward with his hand around Stiles’ throat, claws out and digging into his skin.  
Peter narrowed his eyes and put a hand around each beta’s throat beneath him. “You hurt him in any way and you will heavily regret it,” he snarled. “Peter!” Scott snapped, stepping in between him and the alpha. “Let him go. We aren't hurting your betas any more.”  
Stiles managed to make eye contact with Chris right before the alpha did, snarling and throwing the teen against the wall, winding him before he fell into a pool filled with murky water. All he could do was take in water and try to force his arms to work, the sounds of snarling, gunshots and flesh ripping muffled above him. Or below. He wasn't exactly sure what way he was facing or looking. He knew there was some trick with the bubbles he should be using, because they floated upwards, but the water was getting very dark very quickly. It felt like a hand was grabbing him, but at the same time he could just be hoping and dying and his body was trying to give him that last bit of hope before he slipped into unconsci-  
Stiles gasped for air, clinging to the arm that had lifted him from the water, fingers digging into the flesh.  
“Hey, c'mon Stiles. Deep breaths, not fast,” a soothing voice murmured - _Peter_ murmured.  
He nodded and leaned into his body, closing his eyes and grabbing the wolf’s shoulder with his other hand.  
“Am I going to have to carry you out of here, Stiles?” Peter muttered, his hands running over Stiles’ head and face, checking for bruises or any sign of injury.  
“You pick me up, you lose your dick. Balls. Everything.”  
“Cute. As if I'd let you get close,” He scoffed, scooping Stiles up bridal style.  
“I know where you live. I work the wards to your apartment and Derek’s. You will wake up in the morning dickless, Peter. Minus the one in your attitude. It's irremovable.”  
“Takes one to know one, Stiles.”  
“Shut the hell up,” Stiles muttered, settling against Peter's chest and closing his eyes, going lax against him.  
“Stay awake, Stiles. If you've got a concussion, you can't fall asleep. Keep telling me how much of an ass I am,” Peter murmured, jostling the teen in his grip a bit.  
“You've got a nice one,” Stiles mumbled, glancing over Peter’s shoulder and smirking at the noncommittal growl it pulled from the wolf. “I guess objectifying me is better than you passing out,” Peter muttered, stopping to check with Derek where he was helping Erika to her feet.  
“As if you never stare at mine,” Stiles mumbled, closing his eyes and curling up against Peter's chest, sighing quietly.  
“Open your eyes, Stiles,” Peter growled, shaking him again.  
“You're just comfy. Let me sleep,” He mumbled, settling a hand over Peter’s heart, humming quietly. “Please.”  
“No, Stiles. Open your eyes, now,” Peter muttered, setting Stiles in the car and patting his cheeks. “Open them, now.”  
Stiles peeked his eyes open and groaned softly, quickly shutting them back. “The world is making my eyes hurt. Make it stop.”  
“Derek, Erika. Get over here, now. He needs to get to Melissa. Come on!” Peter snapped, his eyes flashing. Derek gave him a glare, but the two betas hopped in the car nonetheless. Peter lifted Stiles’ head and got in, setting it in his lap. “Derek, give me your sunglasses,” Peter snapped. He got them with minimal grumbling in response, and Peter set them on Stiles’ face. “Open your eyes now.”  
Stiles groaned softly but did, sighing quietly. “Hurts less.”  
“Enough to keep them open?”  
“If it means it'll get you off my ass,” Stiles huffed, turning to nuzzle his face against Peter’s tummy before he froze, realized what he was doing, and turned his face towards the ceiling.  
“Nothing will ever get me off your ass. You're an invaluable emissary. And if Scott won't properly take care of you, I will.”  
“I learned to take care of myself a while ago, Peter,” Stiles sighed quietly.  
“No, you learned to ignore your issues and struggle through until the problem was finished and then take care of yourself, because up until recently nobody gave a damn about you or how you felt.”  
“You're making me want to fall asleep more,” Stiles muttered, turning his head away to stare at the back of the driver's seat.  
“You do, and my ranting will be the least of your worries.”

“I can't fucking believe you did that!” Peter snapped, pacing back and forth in front of where Stiles was on the loft’s living room couch, an ice pack to his head and a heating pad on his abdomen. “I know you're prone to doing stupid shit, mainly because you feel you're weak and pointless and have to go above and beyond to prove yourself, but this? This was a new fucking low.”  
Stiles swallowed thickly, pulling his knees up to his chest and ducking his head down, trying to take a steadying breath as his chest swelled with guilt and self-loathing.  
“You got yourself kidnapped, tortured, used as a bargaining chip. Erika got injured and may lose an eye permanently, Derek nearly drowned, and the three dipshits still got away with hurting us all. But you threw yourself in the middle, made us look and act weak and unorganized, and threw off an already unsteady plan. I can't fucking believe this. I expect this from anyone but you, Stiles. I thought you were better than this,” Peter sighed out, turning to go upstairs.  
“It's your fault.” Stiles’ voice was quiet, weak, but he was heard nonetheless.  
“Excuse me?”  
“You heard me, Peter.”  
“Then please, enlighten me how you inserting yourself into the trouble and fucking everything up is my fault.”  
“You wouldn't tell Scott he needed to kill them and kept complaining to me about it. I figured if I got captured you'd be able to. But, I forgot, I'm the dumbass that fucks everything up. So, sorry, you didn't get what you wanted.”  
“Stiles, you could've fucking died. Don't blame your reckless self-endangerment on me bitching about how that kid tries to run everything.”  
“Trust me, I know nobody is to blame but me,” Stiles scoffed bitterly, wrapping the blanket he'd been laying on tight around his shoulders as he laid down, closing his eyes tight. “I know.”  
It was silent for a few agonizing seconds before there was a soft hand settling against Stiles’ cheek. “If you ever, _ever_ do something this reckless again, I will kill you myself, resurrect you, and smack you senseless.  
“We would fall apart if we didn't have you, Stiles. I'm scared of losing you, so I'm going to call you on your bullshit. Don't try to assume things and go headfirst with reckless abandon. We need you,” Peter murmured, pausing and sighing quietly before admitting, “I need you.”  
“Sure, Peter,” Stiles mumbled, rolling to face the back of the couch, keeping his eyes shut and mentally screaming at his heart to stop beating so rapidly. “You don't have to lie just because I'm feeling more like shit than normal.”  
“Do you really think I am one prone to unnecessary flattery, Stiles?” Peter muttered, lightly combing through Stiles’ hair before settling another blanket atop him, one he knew was the emissary’s favorite.  
“You are when it comes to me.”  
“You're the only person I truly have anything positive to say about at any time, really. Get some sleep. And once you're done being a stubborn ass, use my bed. You were held captive and tortured for close to a week. Get some proper rest on an actually comfortable sleeping surface. Or I'll carry you again.”  
“Over my dead body,” Stiles muttered, burying his face in the blanket and inhaling the scent that was purely… Peter. He smelt good. It was his favorite blanket, which made it a little annoying that Stiles liked it so much, because they constantly warred over it.  
“I'll just resurrect you. Easy peasy,” Peter chuckled, patting Stiles’ shoulder before standing up straight once more. “Rest and recuperate. You deserve time to. Get well, soon. Or else.”  
“Oh no, I'm quaking,” Stiles scoffed, frowning slightly when Peter chuckled.  
“Okay, Shane.”  
“I'm honestly too out of it to know if I'm hallucinating or you actually just said that.”  
“I watch YouTube in my free time. Shane Dawson is a good time waster.”  
“I'm hallucinating. I'm in a coma, the concussion has overtaken me,” Stiles whispered, teasing Peter all the same.  
“Shut up and get some sleep, you little shit. I'll have food waiting for you when you're up next.” Peter waited for a response, and at a lack of one, started making his way to the stairs again. He paused when Stiles hesitantly said his name, and when he looked at the couch, he saw two doe eyes watching him from beneath the two blankets. “Thank you.”  
“You're welcome, Mieczyslaw. Get some rest, I mean it,” Peter’s smile was a bit tight, but still soft around the edges that Stiles’ heart fluttered just a little bit as he returned it before curling back up and closing his eyes.

 

 

  


* * *

  


 

 

Stiles was sat at a large mahogany table at the moment, to the right of Scott and the left of Peter. Derek was on Scott’s other side, Chris beside him, and the five of them were looking expectantly at a group of hunters.  
A group of hunters who'd reached out to try and form an alliance. That saw the work that was going on and respected Scott and his pack for it. Who wanted to be able to work side by side for any other threats that could rear their head. Peter didn't trust them one bit, he'd been grumbling about it all of yesterday while Stiles had been trying to pull up each member’s background.  
“Why could we not alternate on taking the lead with new threats? I feel it is very fair,” Their leader, he'd said his name was Travis, was frowning slightly, the two of his members to his right openly rolling their eyes at the proposal.  
“It would be more beneficial to you and your numbers if we were to investigate a threat. Human to human, walking in to a situation that you aren't prepared for with no healing abilities or heightened senses would be a high risk factor. But if my pack were to investigate and we found out this threat wasn't susceptible to bullets or mountain ash, would that not be beneficial to you to know that before going in and possibly losing members?”  
“Not to sound disrespectful, Stiles, but we have been doing this our entire life. We know how to approach a situation, we are prepared for a loss in the event we are unlucky enough for it to happen, and it rarely does. I understand where you are coming from, but it does not seem fair to me.”  
Stiles gave a conceding nod, glancing at Peter with an apologetic look to his eyes. He could see the question there before he made eye contact with the man in charge once more. “How would you feel about each of us sending a representative or two to investigate suspicious activity together every time? No arguing over who gets what, who went last or what could be considered a technicality. That way your team can work with my pack’s heightened senses and we can work with your weaponry and tactics.”  
Peter's claws gripping on to the side of the chair had Stiles wanting to cringe away, but he held himself rigid and diverted his eyes to his hands set on the table before him.  
“That is definitely a more modest proposal. I would be happy to take that back to my group and offer it for us all to consider. We could reconvene in three days with an answer?” Scott spoke before Stiles could, a polite smile gracing his features. “That sounds perfectly doable. We are at a truce for now. Whoever finds anything finds anything, yes?”  
Travis nodded and stood with Scott, the two of them reaching over the table to shake hands. Stiles stayed seated as the rest of the pack stood, exchanging pleasantries with the hunters and filing out until it was just him and Peter. A very pissed off Peter.  
“Before you go tearing me a new one, it was my own idea,” Stiles said timidly, glancing up at the wolf before back down at his hands. “A solution my alpha would be okay with, and one that seemed beneficial to the hunters. That's what I'm supposed to do. I'm supposed to be the brains, the idea person, the peace offerer. That's what I did. I did that. You can't… you can't be mad at me for doing what an emissary is supposed to do. You told me that's what I'm supposed to do. You sai-”  
“Shut up,” Peter sighed, covering Siles’ mouth with his hand. “I'm not angry. I'm just upset that you're letting him influence you so much. You could have simply advised him this isn't a good idea.”  
“We work with Chris and Allison, now, Peter. Scott is blind to the fact that not every hunter is the same as them. I tried telling him,” Stiles said in a defeated tone, slumping in his chair and closing his eyes. “But you know how he doesn't listen to me.”  
“He doesn't listen to the voice of reason. That boy would find a way to forgive the devil and keep from killing him.”  
“Keep in mind that, while it is hell, he is also the main reason you weren't driven away from the pack,” Stiles said quietly, flinching at the intensity of the look Peter fixed on him. “Listen, I know you dislike him, heavily. And he gets on my nerves to no end. But Scott is first and foremost my childhood friend, the person I've known and who's stuck by me since before mom was sick and everything that happened after. We both get frustrated by him, Peter, but you have to realize that I can't talk bad about him 24/7, and that he is the reason you're still here. He talked to the pack, even Derek, and convinced them to give you a second chance. He talked to them about the insanity, you being trapped inside your body and being driven mad by your wolf. I'm not saying you owe him, but that you do need to realize that his overly optimistic attitude and forgiveness has been used in your favor.”  
Stiles kept his eyes trained on his hands for his speech, and when he looked up again, the room was empty. He swallowed thickly and stood, his body radiating more of his depression than his scent ever could.  
Tonight was a night to stay in his room, alone. Tonight was a night for solitary confinement. It would help his resolve. He just couldn't seem to do anything proper any more, yet only for Peter. And it hurt, every glare or hurt look, each glance of betrayal, and Stiles knew why.  
He wasn't going to dwell on it, or what it all meant. He was just going to brave his way through the pack that was gathered in the living room for a pizza night, stiffly move past Peter and into his room, and cry.  
Because he didn't deserve anything he was starting to want. It was going to be pure suffering on the road ahead.

 

 

  


* * *

  


 

 

“Okay, Stiles, what's his name?” John let out a long suffering sigh, setting down his utensils and giving his son a pointed look.  
“Hm? What?”  
“You're moping, you keep dozing off, and you ordered asparagus - your self-proclaimed depression food. Who is he, and how long will it take me to convince you you are worth his time and should go after him?”  
“How do you know it's a him?” Stiles scoffed, stabbing a piece of asparagus and munching on it unhappily. He needed a new depression food, one John didn't know about.  
“Son, once you finally gave up on Lydia you've only been falling for boys. I have a feeling you might be a little less bi than you originally thought,” the sheriff chuckled, taking a sip of his water before glaring at the coke Stiles had in front of him.  
“Just because I haven't been romantically interested doesn't mean I haven't been interested,” Stiles grumbled, stabbing another vegetable and chewing on it grumpily.  
“Just… promise me you've used protection and all of that?”  
“Yes, dad, I'm not going to become a teen dad,” Stiles mumbled, reaching over the table and stealing a bite of John’s steak, smirking when he gave him a noncomittal grunt.  
“You really shouldn't be eating red meat.”  
“I'm buying tonight, so I get to choose,” the sheriff smirked, swatting away Stiles’ hand when he tried to reach for another bite. “Let me enjoy as much of it as I can.”  
“I guess I'll let you do that,” Stiles sighed dramatically, trying not to grin as he successfully steered his dad away from the topic. He was just about to ask what was new at work, but John beat him to the punch.  
“I'm still waiting for a name.”  
“You'd kill me. You don't like him, you never have.”  
“I never liked Lydia,” John pointed out, grimacing as he bit into a piece of broccoli. If he hadn't ordered one green thing, Stiles would've had his hide. It was the least he could do.  
“It's Peter,” Stiles mumbled before stuffing two pieces of asparagus in his mouth at once, keeping his eyes trained religiously on his plate before him.  
“Oh.” That was all John could manage. He furrowed his brow and sat back in his chair, chewing on the broccoli as he thought. “It could be worse.”  
“Peter's not… _bad_. He was the victim of a hate crime, driven mad after being held captive within his own body for so many years. He's… dad, he's really an amazing person. He's an ass, of course, because that just is a requirement for anyone dating me, but he also balances me out. He's very level-headed and he… he's closer now than Scott ever was.”  
“You've got to promise me you'll be open to what I'm saying next, okay?” John sat forward, his elbows on the table as he waited for Stiles to make eye contact.  
“Yeah, okay…” Stiles frowned, giving his dad a weird look.  
“You don't think you've possibly confused a deep friendship or possibly affection towards a father figure for romantic attraction?”  
Stiles bit his lip and sat back, crossing his arms over his chest as he mulled it over. “Now, you have to promise not to get grossed out when I explain it to you, but… I have ways I feel about you. I want to hug you sometimes, I enjoy spending time with you, I wish we did it more often. That's how I feel towards a father figure. Scott, I enjoy hanging out with him and watching movies, getting into trouble with him, and listening to each other's problems. While I want to do all of those things with Peter, I also want to kiss him. And hold his hand. Wear his clothes and sleep with him. Not even in a sexual way, I just want to lay down together and wake up in the morning to his bed head and bad breath and smile at him before starting a tickle fight before I run to the bathroom and hog it for a good hour. Or five minutes, before I let him in and we shower. I want to go on dates with him to the movie or a restaurant or a starry picnic at night, kiss his cheek and make him smile and hopefully give him some of that happiness he lost all those years ago.”  
John set his hand over Stiles' where he was toying with his napkin, smiling softly. “Then I think you just might really love him.”  
“I don't know about that, yet. He's… he's very important to me, but I do see myself there. Soon. Very soon,” Stiles admitted, smiling weakly at his dad before taking a long swig of his coke. “Now that I've bared my soul, please tell me about something at work. Anything. Water cooler gossip. What you did on patrol today, anything. Please.”  
John laughed and took a bite of his steak, shaking his head as he smiled. “Alright, son.”

 

 

  


* * *

  


 

 

“So, tomorrow is April fool's, as you know,” Stiles smiled, bumping shoulders with Peter. “And I have a wonderful idea.”  
“What would that be?”  
“So, you know my cinnamon rolls that everyone loves?”  
“I've seen blood drawn fighting over the last one. Yes, I am aware,” Peter smirked, setting a lid on the chicken he had simmering on the stove.  
Stiles handed him a piece of paper, grinning deviously.  
_'raisins in the cinnamon rolls’_  
“You're devious. It's beautiful. We're going to the store right now,” Peter chuckled, folding the paper back up and handing it to the younger man.

“I know you were trying to keep it a secret from the pack what you’re wanting to do, but I was the only one left in the loft,” Peter chuckled, pulling into the grocery store parking lot.  
“Isaac and I have it set up where we can both check the wards and listen in to see if there is any danger. Only for a short period of time, and no bedrooms or bathrooms,” Stiles explained, shrugging slightly. “And you are the only other person to know of this.”  
“That seems like an extreme invasion of privacy,” Peter murmured, shaking his head slightly as he turned off the ccar.  
“Safety is an encroachment on privacy. We keep it to the kitchen, entry room and library. That’s all.”  
Peter nodded and hummed thoughtfully, holding the door for Stiles as they entered the store.  
“When you say I’m the only other person to know-”  
“Scott doesn’t know. He would throw a fit,” Stiles interrupted, grabbing a basket and pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. “I also need to do some minor grocery shopping.”  
“Me too. Are we splitting up?”  
“Nope. We are doing this together. Last time I was in here I got overwhelmed by a lot of people on one aisle and I need someone with me. Please,” Stiles mumbled, turning around and pushing the cart towards the fresh produce.  
“Was it loud? Or just too much to focus on at once?” Peter asked quietly, following close beside Stiles as he perused the vegetables, grabbing a couple yellow squash, a head of broccoli, and some assorted greens. It was a while before he got a response, and Stiles’ voice was so quiet and scared that Peter could feel his heart aching.  
“The nogitsune, uhm… Many of my torture scenarios involved me having sensory overload in crowded areas. Or just… feet shuffling continuously, mumbled voices talking for hours on end. It… gave me anxiety. I’ve only been able to shop at 10 at night because there’s never anyone out at those times. It’s stupid, but-” Stiles cut himself off, pretending to focus on the ingredients of the jar of peanut sauce he was picking up, but he already knew he was going to buy it. He always bought it.  
“It’s not stupid. When I was your age, I couldn’t go out for the couple of days surrounding the full moon because my senses were heightened to the point that a heartbeat felt like I was getting punched repeatedly in the head. I had anxiety and panic attacks in public multiple times before I was able to control it,” Peter murmured, grabbing a bottle labeled ‘Yum Yum Chicken Sauce’ and setting it in the upper part of the basket. “Don’t say it’s stupid. It’s just an embarrassing struggle. Everyone has it with something. Derek used to be terrified silly about origami animals. He’d have dreams they were attacking him and the family. Laura loved making them, and she showed him how, and now he just avoids them for other reasons.”  
Stiles glanced at Peter, noticing the tightness in his voice. An emotional admonition for an emotional admonition. “It makes sense why he got quiet that time I asked about the origami books in the library. They looked old and I had asked if he was a collector or secret nerd.”  
Peter laughed softly, nodding. “He definitely is a secret nerd. You should ask him for help with your work more often than me. He still studies that stuff. It’s been decades since I have.”  
“Only one. And you still make connections I can’t. But I get it. You already have to bake and research with me. Research help is just too much of me for you to handle.”  
Peter was struck still when a strong bitter scent rolled off of Stiles after he finished, the smirk and twinkle to his eyes a stark contrast to the negative feelings rolling off of him. “I’m just suggesting you bond with him. He really likes you, Stiles. He wants to get closer with you. He needs some pack ties.”  
“He has a strange way of showing it,” Stiles scoffed, grabbing a bag of flour and sugar, dropping them unceremoniously into the basket.  
“Because you’re kind of a dick to him,” Peter smirked, grabbing the basket and pulling it to a stop, gesturing at the vanilla extract.  
Stiles huffed and grabbed one of the larger bottles, glancing at the end of the aisle where a cluster of people had gathered. Peter stepped in front of him, effectively blocking the sight from his attention.  
“You didn’t grab any powdered sugar.”  
Stiles eyes seemed to come back to focus in slow motion, meeting Peter’s eyes in an almost panicked way. “W-What?”  
“Powdered sugar for the icing. Is there already some at the loft?” Peter repeated in a softer voice, setting a hand on Stiles’ shoulder, trying to ground him.  
“Uhm, I-I don’t-”  
“Hey, stop looking over my shoulder. Focus on me and my face. Picture the pantry. Yes or no to powdered sugar?”  
Stiles met Peter’s gaze again, swallowing thickly. “Blue container?”  
“Blue container,” Peter confirmed, squeezing Stiles’ shoulder.  
“It’s halfway.”  
“Then let’s get some just in case anyone has a whim to make some treats this week.”  
Stiles nodded stiffly before turning around, leading the way back to the opposite end of the aisle. He and Peter each grabbed a bag of the fine sugar, set it in the basket, and the wolf gently guided Stiles over to the next aisle.  
“Derek is an ass to you because you remind him of how I was when I was younger, and it’s painful,” Peter started up their previous conversation, grabbing a small bag of coffee beans and adding it to the basket.  
“What?” Stiles furrowed his brow, pulling the basket to a stop and looking at Peter in utter confusion.  
“Derek, he’s an ass to you because of how witty and sarcastic you are. And how intelligent you are, how talented you are, and the fact that you use all of that to help possibly one of the most incompetent alphas in our world.”  
“So he’s a dick to me because of who I am as a person. You really aren’t helping him out right now,” Stiles chuckled. “I already have you to criticize my every move. I don’t think I could handle a second person doing that.”  
“I don’t criticize everything you do,” Peter replied indignantly, frowning deeply as he added some cheese he wanted to the basket. “You don’t honestly think that, do you?”  
“I’m just giving you a hard time,” Stiles chuckled, but he was looking at Peter with an apology written across his face. “I know you do more than that. You’re walking with me through a grocery store trying to get me to strengthen my own pack ties, you very successfully stopped me from having an anxiety attack, and you’re going to help me with the cinnamon roll prank. And that’s just today, just within the last hour. Lighten up a little,” Stiles bumped their shoulders, smiling warmly at Peter before he grabbed two gallons of milk and a couple of cartons of eggs.  
“I’m perfectly lightened up,” Peter scoffed, grabbing some yogurt and butter.  
“Mmm, sure. Because that response really cuts it for witty and snarky. Not Dean Winchester grasping for straws _at all_.” Stiles was smirking, leaning into Peter a bit before he started towards the chip aisle.  
“I ought to leave you in here alone after that comment,” Peter huffed, following him closely.  
“You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you did that to me,” Stiles scoffed, grabbing an assortment of family size bags of chips. “More importantly, several people would be lining up to kick your ass.”  
“As if I’m scared of a couple of bitchy teenagers,” Peter huffed, reaching around Stiles to grab some Cape Cod chips, unable to hide a small smile when Stiles’ heart rate spiked at the close quarters, and the way he cleared his throat when their arms brushed. If only he’d get himself together and ask Peter out.

Stiles had asked for a small pitstop on the way back to the loft, one Peter easily agreed to and let a heavy silence fall over them for the ride. When Peter finally pulled in to park, he turned around and grabbed the bouquet of roses Stiles had grabbed at the store and handed it to him.  
“I assume it’s why you bought them?”  
“Yeah,” Stiles smiled tiredly before he unbuckled and got out, biting his lip as he ducked his head through the open passenger side window. “I don’t know how long I’ll be. You can head back to the loft and I can order a Lyft.”  
“I don’t have anything I need to do for the rest of the day. Unless you’re trying to politely tell me to leave.”  
“The milk and eggs and ice cream. You can come back after you put them up if you want? Just… text me if you do, so I know what I need to do to get home.”  
“I don’t have your number,” Peter murmured, and Stiles pulled his phone out and sent a text.  
Peter’s phone lit up and he perked his brow at Stiles. “You’ve had my number all of this time and never thought to tell me?”  
“Figured it would be one more way for you to have an escape from me,” Stiles mumbled and shrugged, standing up from the car.  
“Hey! Stiles-” But the younger man was already walking into the gated cemetery, clutching the roses tight between his hands. Peter sighed softly and grabbed his phone, sent Stiles a text, and begrudgingly pulled out of the parking lot and headed to the loft.

“Hey, mom,” Stiles said quietly, setting down the flowers in front of her headstone before sitting down cross-legged, swallowing thickly. “I’ve got some big news. I told dad, and I feel like it’s your turn to find out. I’m just a little scared because telling you means it’s real. And I think it is. But it’s still… a lot to process.  
“I… fuck, mom, I really like Peter. I discussed it with dad. It’s not a father figure kind of caring. I want to kiss him and make sure he laughs a lot and gets the good things that he can’t buy with all of his money he was left.  
“I want to make him breakfast in bed and fall asleep next to him, I want to kiss him and take him dancing, take him on trips and take those cheesy photos together. I want to make him happy, and… I want him to make me happy. Because I deserve that, at least, don’t I? I deserve to make him happy the way he makes me happy.  
“I’m just scared because… mom-” Stiles’ voice breaks and he sets his hand against the slightly worn stone, closing his eyes. “He’s an adult. He’s lived a life, had a wife, been through some serious shit. I’m almost 21, I haven’t even gone to college yet. He’s 32, he’s lived through losing his whole family and going insane during recovery. Mom, I don’t want him to just write me off. It’s genuine feelings.”  
Stiles reached forward and situated the roses so they were leaning against the headstone, sighing weakly. “You’d love him so much. He has such a great sense of humor, he’s so caring, and he’s… he’s fucking _brilliant_ , mom. I can talk with him about the things I’m studying to prep for the SAT and ACT, about the books I read for research or my free time. He reads them just so I’ll have someone to discuss them with. He shares his favorite blanket with me because he knows I like it, too. He-” Stiles’ voice broke and he cleared his throat, smiling weakly at the grass in his hands he’d been pulling from the ground. “He cares about me and what happens to me. He pays attention to me, and lets me take care of him. I want him to… I want to date him. Badly. And for it to lead somewhere.”  
Stiles stared at the line of trees a few feet away from where he was sitting before he moved to lay on his back beside where he remembered his mom’s casket had been dropped. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, setting his hand on the lush grass that had grown over his mother’s plot. “I miss you,” He sighed softly, relaxing in the soft sunlight above him.

When he awoke next, Stiles felt a hand on his shoulder. He shifted his head a bit and frowned when his nose bumped against what felt like denim. Opening his eyes confirmed that thought, and he trailed his eyes up the torso to Peter’s face. His cheeks tinged a soft pink at the realization that Peter had come back and waited with Stiles, had lifted his head into his lap so he wouldn’t have a crick in his neck from lying on the ground for so long.  
“Sleeping beauty finally awakens,” Peter murmured, setting his bookmark to save his page before setting the book on the ground beside them. He smoothed out Stiles’ hair, giving him a soft smile.  
“How long was I asleep?” Stiles mumbled, closing his eyes as Peter’s fingers carded through his hair.  
“I’ve been here a couple hours.”  
“I’m sorry. I always nap out here when I see her. I should have told you not to wait on me.”  
“Don’t apologize. I went and visited Talia’s plot, along with Samantha.”  
“That’s her name?”  
“Yes. My wife’s name was Samantha.”  
“What was she like?”  
“I…” Peter paused, his fingers still carding mindlessly through Stiles’ hair. “She was my complete opposite. Calm, collected, more emotionally attached to everyone. But I never had an issue growing close to her. I loved her, more genuinely than I had ever loved anyone. That’s why we had Malia. Or, we adopted her,” Peter sighed, looking back down at Stiles and running his thumb over his cheek. “Sam was amazing. She balanced me out, she kept my head on my shoulders.”  
Stiles turned his face to nuzzle against Peter’s hand, smiling softly. “You were very lucky. I wish I could have met her. She sounds like I remember my mom being.”  
“They were good friends,” Peter whispered, and Stiles went a bit stiff, turning to look up at him. “I-I… what?”  
“Before your mom died, she was very close with Sam. They alway hung out together. She tried to get you and Malia to get to know each other, but you never seemed to want to be friends with anyone besides McCall.”  
Stiles nodded weakly and nuzzled back against Peter’s palm. “Was Sam a lot older than you?” “We were highschool sweethearts.”  
“So you and Sam were the young friends mom would always talk about,” Stiles murmured, nudging his nose one last time against Peter’s palm before moving to sit up, he settled beside him against the headstone, tucking himself close when Peter settled an arm around his shoulders.  
“How old were you when you adopted Malia?”  
“She and I were both 21, and Malia at the time was 5 years old. We actually adopted her from a pack out of state that couldn’t support another member. She was the sweetest little kid,” He sighed, and Stiles smiled, tucking his face in and nuzzling against Peter’s neck.  
“I remember liking her as a kid.”  
They sat in an easy silence after that, both reminiscing about the past. They didn’t get up to leave until the sun was starting to set, and Stiles didn’t check his phone until he was curling up in the guest room-turned-his room that night.

He teared up a little and rolled to face the wall, burying his face against his pillow. Peter deserved the world, and Stiles was going to give it to him, damn it.

 

 

  


* * *

  


 

 

“I finally get to learn how to make the infamous Stilinski Cinnamon Rolls?” Peter grinned, sidling up beside Stiles, donned with an apron and positive attitude.  
“You have to swear that you will share the recipe with no one. And I mean no one.”  
Peter chuckled, but at the serious look Stiles fired him, he sobered up and nodded gravely.  
“Completely. You have my word. Scout’s honor.” “Peter, you never were in the boy scouts. Give him something serious to barter on,” Derek huffed without looking up from the book he was reading at the bar at the end of the counter.  
“Fine. You have my word as a Hale.”  
“Is that supposed to be any better?” Stiles teased, leaning against the counter and perking his brow.  
Peter opened his mouth to answer, but Derek beat him to it. “He said those words right before dumping a bucket of water on me after I thought we’d ended a prank war.”  
“Hey, hey! I had already set it up. I didn’t know I’d be making a pact when I did.”  
“You still let me walk underneath it,” Derek murmured, glancing up at Peter from his book with a bitch face that could rival his own.  
“I wasn’t going to let it go to waste,” Peter grumbled, turning back towards Stiles. “But these cinnamon rolls are the real deal. Not Derek drenched in water.”  
“I think I can accept your word as a Hale, then. But be warned,” Stiled put a wooden spoon to Peter’s throat. “My recipe gets out, it’s you getting castrated.”  
“Why do you always threaten my manhood?” Peter frowned. “Losing you in my life would hurt more. That’s more of a threat.”  
“I, unfortunately, would not be able to do that.” Stiles huffed, tapping Peter’s cheek with the spoon. “I like you too much to do that. I’m stuck with you.”  
“Well, calm down, please. I know it’s exciting, but honestly,” Peter replied sardonically, grabbing the flour and sugars from the pantry.  
Stiles rolled his eyes with a grin, grabbing pans and wax paper. “As if I’d give you the satisfaction.”  
“Well, if the two of you are just going to flirt while you bake, I’m going to the living room,” Derek murmured, standing up and walking to the living room, all without looking from his book.  
“He apparently doesn’t know what flirting is,” Peter huffed. “If I were wooing you your cheeks would be red and you’d be silent for the first time in your life.”  
“As if you could render me speechless.” Stiles scoffed, tearing out wax paper to set in the bottom of the pan. He turned around to grab some eggs, but was frozen to the spot when Peter stepped in front of him, trapping him against the counter with an arm on either side of his body.  
“You really think I’m not capable of getting you to shut up?” The wolf was smirking, their faces dangerously close.  
“I bet I could do it in under a second.”  
“Really?” Peter smirked, leaning in a bit closer, his eyes sparkling with the challenge. “I’ll let you ha-”  
He was cut off when Stiles leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth before ducking under his arm and grabbing the eggs from the fridge. He turned around to stare at the teenager quizzically, the smirk on Stiles’ face slightly frustrating. “Told you.”  
“Mmm, I bet I can beat you,” Peter shrugged, still a bit thrown off by the gesture.  
“You do that, and I will make dinner tonight,” Stiles smirked, stepping up in front of Peter, hands on his hips.  
He was about to say something, Peter was sure of it, but he stepped forward again and kissed Stiles proper, cupping his face and setting a hand on his waist.  
When they broke apart, Stiles cleared his throat and looked away. “You’re not enough of a dick to do that unless you really meant anything by it.” It was a statement, but still riddled with a question.  
“Correct.”  
“So, if I were to kiss you again, hypothetically, what would that entail?”  
“I would be legally required to date you. I don’t make the rules, just follow them.”  
“I think that’s understandable,” Stiles smiled, leaning into Peter before connecting their lips, settling his hands on his shoulders before sliding them around to loop around his neck. They both smiled into the kiss, Peter sighing out happily before he surged forward with a pleased growl, looping his arm that had been on Stiles’ hip around his waist, pulling their bodies flush together.

The cinnamon rolls took the longest time since Stiles had first made them, as the two bakers kept getting distracted by the other, touches and kisses sweeter than the treat they were making.


	2. War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I will remember you with me on that field
> 
> When I thought that I fought this war alone  
> You were there by my side on the frontline  
> When I thought that I fought without a cause  
> You gave me a reason to try

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>   
> 

Peter prided himself on how emotionally disconnected he could remain from most of the people he was around, how he could notice ticks and tells for the people around him and use them to his advantage. Scott just furrows his brow for a range of emotions, but the intensity of said furrow was how to pinpoint his emotion. Derek would tap his fingers on his thigh when he was angry, swallow loudly if he was mulling things over, or lick his lips excessively when he was nervous. Malia only had varying forms of a grimace; if her lips were pursed she was scared, if her eyes were squinting she was nervous, if her nose scrunched up she was either irritated or angry, and if her jaw tightened she was thinking. She would often grind her teeth, as well. Erica however, she was an open book, so it didn’t take long to understand her. She prided herself on it, even. One thing that Peter could never understand, as she never could hide herself or keep someone on the ropes. Although when it came to her counterpart, Boyd, he was honestly someone that impressed Peter. He took the longest to understand, often quiet and in the background, standing even and silent with Peter. He was the first kid Peter had taken to, and they often worked together when Stiles wasn’t around.  
Which brings Peter to another point - _Stiles_. The boy was glorious and amazing, as well as talented beyond belief. He had depth to his personality on many levels, from the endless depth of his thoughts to how he carried himself. He was a spark and had a soft bit of magic to him that had grabbed Peter’s attention ever since he’d first laid his eyes on the boy... and in that very instant, he knew that he wanted him for his own. He also knew that forcing that magic into a pack would be deadly, and when the boy rejected his bite, he swayed and let him go.  
As a member of the pack, Stiles was arguably more in tune with everyone around him than Peter, because Stiles allowed himself to get emotionally involved with each member… including, unfortunately, Peter himself.  
It annoyed him at first, how often Stiles was able to pick up on his emotions, bringing him small treats and distracting him from the task at hand to cool him down and keep a level head. He knew when to bring Peter something to stress between his hands, when to bring him some fruit so he wouldn’t be so ready to snap at someone for a stupid idea. The time he brought Peter a sweater that reeked of himself after he was gone for a week is when it really smacked him across the face and whacked him in the gut how much Stiles meant to him.  
Which is why, now, with the boy in his arms, pressing soft kisses to his cheek before stepping away and pulling the cinnamon rolls from the oven, Peter’s breath left him.  
Stiles was his mate.

“Cinnamon rolls are ready!” Stiles called out, Peter snagging him by the waist and pulling him out of the way of the bumbling group of young adults that barrelled into the kitchen. All of them yelling over the other, each of them trying to get to the platter first. Stiles was smirking, settled against Peter’s chest comfortably as he watched them all tear into the treats. Scott was the first to make a face and spit the cinnamon roll out, gagging. “What the hell was that?”  
“Are these-” Isaac had started, peeling apart the dough and looking closer.  
“Raisins!” Erica finished it for him, the word leaving her mouth in a growl, turning on Stiles and narrowing her eyes. All the emissary did was grin, reaching for Peter’s hand and tangling their fingers.  
“April Fool’s?” He said quietly, biting his lip as Erica walked towards him, still glaring. “We’re not going to the movies tomorrow,” She muttered, narrowing her eyes at his barely hidden grin before walking out of the kitchen. Derek was in the doorway smirking, stepping out of the way for Erica to storm out before he glanced at Peter and Stiles’ hands linked together, smirked once more, and left the room.  
“Stiles, this was very unfair of you,” Scott started, and Stiles snorted, shaking his head.  
“You are not going to Alpha lecture me on my April Fool’s joke, Scott. I’m not going to be able to keep a straight face.”  
“You’ve broken our trust.”  
“Oh, so the next time I make some, there will actually be a cinnamon roll for me because you guys will be too scared to eat them, Hm?” Stiles had dropped Peter’s hand so he could cross his arms over his chest and stare at his friend pointedly, who only cleared his throat and avoided Stiles’ gaze. “That's what I thought. Now, begone.”  
“Of course, princess P.I.T.A.*,” Isaac huffed, tossing the cinnamon roll in the trash when Stiles gave him a tight smile.  
The rest of the pack filed out of the kitchen, grumbling under their breath and tossing Stiles weak glares until all that was left was him and Peter.  
“While I do enjoy good fun, you're not pranking me with your feelings, hm? Because that would be unforgivable,” Peter murmured, grabbing Stiles’ hand and settling him in against his chest. “I know I'm an asshole, but I'm not Jake Paul,” Stiles mumbled, sighing out happily as Peter bent down and started setting soft kisses up and down his neck.  
“Don't mention that idiot while I'm trying to kiss you,” Peter huffed, circling his arms tighter around Stiles’ waist, gently scraping his teeth over the corner of Stiles’ jaw before nuzzling against his cheek.  
“You're scenting me? Already? I usually wait until the second date,” Stiles chuckled, setting his hand over Peter’s arm around his torso and tracing designs over his skin.  
“Hm, I guess I could take you out to a dinner tonight…”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Peter had to bite his tongue as he watched Stiles trying to resuscitate Scott, the black blood trailing from his parted lips and the bullet holes in his chest burnt into his mind. There was a thready pulse, but the hunter had emptied his case into Scott. None left. And Erika had killed him before they could discover what kind it was. Chris wasn't able to help, staring down at Scott’s body as his pulse slowed and his chest moved less and less, at Stiles crying and trying to do something, his hands stained black, dark marks on his face where he'd wiped away his tears.  
Scott had ignored Stiles and Peter and Chris, had thrown caution to the wind and taken off after the rogue hunter before the rest of the pack was there. They'd only been in time to watch him treated as target practice, a full mag emptied into his chest and abdomen.  
“Peter? Peter, come here. I need… I need you to clear the room,” Stiles was slightly breathless and his eyes were dull, but he seemed hardened to some thought. So Peter did, having Chris aid a seemingly hypnotised Allison from the room, gently guiding the other members of their broken pack along with Derek. They agreed that Derek should give them some task, and that would be cleaning. Cleaning the blood and fear from the floors, keep their minds focused enough to dissociate and scrub the images from their mind.  
Peter shut and locked the door behind him before joining Stiles, setting a hand between his shoulders and kissing his forehead. “What do you need from me?”  
“Kill him,” Stiles said quietly. Peter went rigid, his brow furrowing as the emissary turned to face him. Something was brewing in his eyes, something that looked almost ethereal stirring beneath the surface. “Become alpha. Don't abandon our pack. You're the only one capable, with a level head, who knows what they’re doing,” Stiles whispered, grabbing Peter’s hand.  
The wolf had to keep from retching, the squishy-sticky mess of black blood on his mate’s hand making his skin crawl.  
“Stiles, the pack won't-”  
“They'll follow you if I'm at your side. They trust you more than you realize,” Stiles murmured, turning to Scott and pressing two fingers against the pulse in his neck, sighing. “You need to soon. If you won't, I'll get Derek to. We won't be abandoned as omegas. I won't let my pack crumble to pieces or be taken over by a rogue and unknown alpha because you didn't have the guts to-”  
“Stiles. I'm not worried about me. I'm worried about you. Can you watch this? Emissaries are traditionally to watch their alpha come to power. I'd be killing your best friend,” Peter murmured, cupping Stiles’ cheek and making him hold eye contact. “I'm not doing this unless we follow tradition. I won't have my alpha power tainted.”  
“It won't affect how I see you. I've watched you kill countless amounts of beings, supernatural and human alike. I can do this. I believe in you, in us, in the pack with you as alpha,” Stiles leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Peter’s lips.  
He nodded and flicked out his claws, taking a deep breath before slashing through Scott’s jugular, trying not to break as he felt Stiles flinch against him.  
“I'm doing this because you told me to,” Peter said quietly, his stomach churning as Stiles buried his face against his neck. “Because I trust and believe in you.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Each member of the pack reacted like Stiles had told Peter they would.  
Isaac nodded and bumped their shoulders together, standing to the left of Peter and slightly behind him, staring at the ground.  
Derek was next, squeezing Peter’s shoulder as he moved to stand behind him and Isaac, looking at each of the others with Peter and Stiles.  
Chris followed, stopping to stand in front of Peter. “I’m not submitting to you. This is me letting you know I will be happy to form an alliance with you.”  
“We expect nothing more from you, Chris,” Stiles said quietly, grasping Chris’ forearm as the older man did the same. He nodded at Peter before moving to stand at his right, on the other side of Stiles.  
“You only killed him to protect us?” Erica asked quietly, standing close to Boyd, leaning into his touch at her shoulders.  
“Your emis-Stiles,” Peter sighed softly, reaching for Stiles’ shoulder. “Stiles asked me to so the pack would not be abandoned. I did not originally want to. I did not think any of you would accept me as your alpha.”  
“You’re an alpha on trial,” Erica mumbled, stepping up to Peter and squaring her shoulders. “Stiles may be soft on you, but I won’t let you get away with anything.”  
“I also will not accept the disrespect and insubordination your last alpha let run awry,” Peter murmured. The two stood, staring at the other stiffly before Erica surged forward and hugged Peter tight. He was caught off guard, but returned the gesture, glancing over at Stiles briefly before she stepped back. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”  
Peter smiled softly and squeezed Erica’s shoulder. “I’m proud to have a member of my pack that will hold me accountable to my actions.”  
“Not for long,” Stiles muttered, laughing softly and dodging the playful swat from Erica before he hugged her as well.  
Boyd followed her, simply nodding at Peter before cracking into a small smile. They clapped hands and did their handshake, knocking their shoulders together before he joined Erica behind Stiles.  
“I trust Stiles. I still don’t know you well enough,” Malia stated bluntly, offering her hand to Stiles. He shook his head, gesturing to Peter.  
“You swear your loyalty to an alpha, not an emissary.”  
She narrowed her eyes and looked at Peter, nodded curtly towards him, and went to stand on the other side of Isaac.  
“Allison, will you join my proposal, or do you need to process?” Chris piped up, stepping forward and even with Peter, to his left.  
“I, uh, I need time,” She whispered, pulling the blanket around her shoulders.  
“That won’t affect our current standings. She is still welcome as you are, Chris,” Peter murmured, nodding to him before turning to Kira and Lydia.  
“You tortured me mentally and destroyed many aspects of my sanity, but I know Stiles is intelligent enough to back the right alpha,” Lydia said quietly. “Am I permitted to stay, even with that basis?”  
“Any trust you place in me, even if indirect, is a gift. I would be honored to have such a brilliant mind paired with Stiles’ in my pack.”  
“You could have just said yes,” She huffed, holding her hand out to Peter, who clasped and shook it. Kira simply took Peter's hand and shook it before positioning herself beside Lydia, leaning against her and keeping her eyes to the ground.  
“Jackson?” Stiles asked quietly, and he glanced up from his phone.  
“Hm?”  
“What are you deciding to do?”  
“Oh, I thought it would be evident I'd be joining you guys. I don't wanna lose myself to the bad side again,” He stated simply, shutting off his phone and looking to Peter. “I shake your hand, yes?”  
“It's more than that, but that's a start,” Peter perked his brow, holding his hand out to Jackson before the young man grinned and clasped their hands together.  
“I'm with you, Peter. Don't let us down.”  
“He won't,” Stiles murmured before Peter could say anything. They shared a small smile before turning around to look over their pack.  
“It's a start. I like this. But first order of business,” Peter paused, taking in a deep breath through his nose. “Jackson and Derek, we need to move his body.”  
“What?” Allison frowned, stumbling to her feet from the couch, the blanket still secure around her shoulders.  
“He's going to have to… be found. We can't just make him disappear. And… Melissa.”  
“I'll go talk to her,” Stiles murmured, squeezing Peter’s shoulder and nuzzling his cheek.  
“Are you sure?”  
“We can cry together,” Stiles murmured, smiling tiredly at Peter. “If she wants me to stay the night, I will, and I'll let you know. She may also be in trouble, if that hunter had others with him previously or anyone to come looking for him. Make his body disappear, though. He deserves nothing beyond the swift death he received.”

“Peter, we need to meet with the hunters Scott made that alliance with. They've been trying to contact me, they need our help,” Stiles snapped, grabbing the book from Peter's hands and closing it. “We can honor this last project together before you break the treaty. People have died and will continue to die.”  
“We are not helping anyone until we know for sure they aren't affiliated with that rogue hunter we killed,” Peter muttered, reaching for his book and narrowing his eyes when Stiles held it out of his reach. “Honey, you mean a lot to me, but give me back the book.”  
“Tell them we'll help them,” Stiles snapped again, pressing his hand to Peter’s chest and shoving him back into his chair, holding the book at a distance.  
The alpha rolled his eyes and grabbed Stiles’ waist, pulling him into his lap. He tangled his fingers in his hair and pulled his head back, growling softly. “Give me the book.”  
“You are not about to sex me out of this conversation,” Stiles huffed, smacking Peter's hand away from his head and hugging the book to his chest, getting comfortable on his lap. “I guess I'll just have to sit on you until you give in.”  
“I guess it's a good thing I can sit and stare at you for ages,” Peter smirked, snaking his arms around Stiles’ waist and nuzzling his face against his neck.  
“You're being a dick.”  
“I'm keeping my pack out of danger. Who's to say they won't realize the treaty is expired and take us out after we deal with their threat? Did that thought ever cross your mind?”  
“I Skyped their leader and made an agreement, with Derek present, that we would honor the spirit of the treaty until proper negotiations were made with the new alpha in charge. Even if you wish to terminate. They don't kill wolves unless they're driven to,” Stiles murmured, smirking slightly at Peter before leaning in close. “Even if said alpha is a complete asshole that is so full of himself-”  
“Don't talk to me like that,” Peter snapped, grabbing Stiles’ hips and shoving him to his feet, causing the emissary to hit his hip on the table before he stood and left the room.  
Stiles frowned and rubbed his side where it had hit the table, a bruise already blossoming on his pale skin. He cleared his throat and set the book he'd been holding on the table as he stretched his back, clenching his jaw as his lower back screamed in protest.  
He walked through the living room to the front door with a set jaw and thinly veiled limp, grabbing his keys and leaving his phone before walking out, never more thankful than now just how little the pack really paid him attention.

“Where's Stiles?” Peter wanted to apologize, but he couldn't find him. He was being a dick earlier, he'd admit, but Stiles was, too.  
“I don't know. Try-I’ll call him,” Lydia murmured, clicking on Stiles’ contact. A couple of heads turned towards the front entryway, where Stiles’ phone was blasting Black Heart.  
“Did he tell anyone where he was going?” Peter asked with a frown, grabbing his mate’s phone and taking a steadying breath.  
“I don't think any of us knew he left,” Isaac said quietly, stepping up even with Peter.  
“What the hell is that supposed to mean? It's not like he's a master of sneaking around. Where the fuck is he?”  
“He went to meet with those hunters. He told me you said he should cement a treaty for safety before you'd let us help them,” Derek had made his way into the room when he'd heard the conversation. “I'm guessing now that that wasn't the truth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *P.I.T.A. - Pain In The Ass


	3. Delicate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We might live like never before  
> When there's nothing to give  
> Well how can we ask for more  
> We might make love in some sacred place  
> The look on your face is delicate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>   
> 

“I can't believe you did that to me,” Peter growled, shoving Stiles up against the door, pushing into his space.  
“Did what? Saved people? Saved hunters that do the right thing? Kept our pack with a good image to outsiders?” Stiles snapped, shoving Peter away from him, energy crackling up and down his arms. “Kept a threat from growing barely a town over, kept our own city and pack safe at the same time?”  
“You threw yourself into a direct line of danger and show cased talents your aren't fully in control of. You could have hurt the wrong person. You can't keep flying around on blind luck, Stiles!” “It's not luck, and I have been refining it, no thanks to you and your stubborn, ridiculous ass,” Stiles muttered, shoving past Peter to walk towards the kitchen, jaw set tight and his hands curved into fists.  
“Don't fucking walk away from me. I'm not done here!”  
“Well, I am! So fucking deal with it, you controlling asswipe!”  
Peter followed him and reached to grab his wrist.“Dammit, Stiles, no! You need to stop walking away-”  
He was cut off by a rush of electricity coursing down Stiles’ arm, flinging him against the wall. The crash and clatter of picture frames alerted Derek from downstairs, who'd been trying to ignore them. But the shattering glass had him taking the stairs two at a time, rushing to his uncle's side and separating Stiles from him.  
“Go get a blanket and call Melissa. Now, don't sit and stare and cry,” Derek muttered, turning Peter to lay on his back and feeling his forehead.  
Stiles only stood a few more seconds before grabbing a blanket from the hall closet and giving it to Derek, pressing the speed dial for Melissa and leaving his phone on speaker.  
“Stiles? I just finished dinner, is everything okay?”  
“He shocked Peter. He's unconscious but his pulse is steady. There doesn't seem to be a point of contact-”  
“He didn't touch me. I don't know how it happened,” Stiles whispered, shaking his head and wiping a tear.  
“Is he cold?”  
“No, I have a blanket on him. He's not feverish, either,” Derek replied, squeezing Stiles shoulder before checking Peter’s pulse. “I think he's good, Mel. Should we move him?”  
“To the nearest surface off of the ground. Don't strain yourself or him.”  
“Okay. Anything else?”  
“I'll check on him in the morning. Werewolf powers or not, he's going to get a check up. Move him and keep me updated when he wakes up.”  
“Gotcha,” Derek murmured, reaching over and ending the call before lifting Peter up and moving him to a couch down the hallway.

“You asked her to teach you how to react for electrical shocks,” Stiles said quietly, his head settled on Peter's thigh, tears rolling lazily down his face. “You knew I'd be a danger.”  
“Especially as reactive as you are around Peter,” Derek murmured, setting a glass of water and ibuprofen on the coffee table for Peter when he woke up.  
“I need to leave.”  
“You leave before he wakes up, or for any other reason, you'll have me to answer to. Face your problems head on,” Derek gave Stiles a stern look before sighing quietly. “Don't be who I used to be. I know you, for a fact, can be a grown up about this situation. Peter is more reactive around you. You're both dumbasses that I love and care for and you need to stop being complete dickwipes to each other.”  
“Hmm, some great words to hear as I'm waking up from a beating,” Peter groaned, reaching to touch Stiles face. “You're here. He's not on the phone,” the alpha breath out, tangling his fingers in Stiles’ hair before combing through it. “Thank you.”  
“Only by threat of my life. I would've been halfway across the state if I weren't being held hostage.”  
“Because you don't like confrontation.”  
“You don't, either,” Stiles huffed, tossing Derek a glare before looking up at Peter as he sat up. He hauled the emissary into his lap, kissing him hard and holding him tight.  
“Please don't ever try to kill me again,” Peter mumbled, kissing him softly.  
“I wasn't. I didn't even… I didn't even know you were that close to me. I don't… I don't know what happened,” Stiles mumbled, closing his eyes and letting out a shaky breath. “I don't know what happened.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Are you ready for tonight?” Peter looked over at Stiles with a grin, finishing the last button on his shirt.  
“I need another 20,” Stiles mumbled, glued to his phone and maneuvering around Peter. “Isaac said Theo wants to come over and stay at the loft, but I told him he's not allowed after last time.”  
“Hey, hey, listen here,” Peter murmured, grabbing Stiles’ phone and shutting it off, pulling him against his chest.  
“Isaac can handle it himself. It is date night.” “Last time Isaac 'handled it himself’ the living room caught on fire,” Stiles mumbled, wiggling out of Peter’s grip. “We'll just be a little late. Cool it.”  
“Stiles, this is the third time in a row we'll be late,” Peter sighed, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the door frame.  
“Then cancel the damn thing, if that's more important than keeping your house from burning down again,” Stiles muttered, pushing past Peter and making his way downstairs. “Isaac! Where are you?”  
“I'm in the kitchen making dinner for me and Derek,” He responded, and gave Stiles a bit of a look when he came into the room with a crazed look to his eyes. “Woah, do you need some tea?”  
“I need you to get it together with Theo. He's not allowed in here. I've told you before, the wards can keep him-”  
“I tried that last time. That's how the living room got set on fire.”  
“How in the fuck-”  
“I told him Theo could come up and he tried to change the wards,” Peter mumbled, sitting in a chair at the counter beside Derek. “Make your meal for three, please.”  
“Mmm, no date night after all?”  
“I don't enjoy traumatic events being dredged up. Bit of a mood killer,” Peter muttered, taking the drink Derek offered him and downing it.  
“Too bad alcohol doesn't affect you,” Derek chuckled, nudging their shoulders before passing him the bottle and glancing at Stiles. “What traumatic event? Do I need to ground the emissary?”  
Stiles set his jaw and shut his phone off. “I may be the youngest person in this god forsaken building, but I am apparently the only person who cares about anything of importance.”  
“So, the loft is more important than our relationship?”  
“You know that's not fair. Having a functioning pack and somewhere to call home and regroup is priceless to this pack, after all we've been through,” Stiles snapped, starting to tear up.  
“Home is wherever we decide it is. For you, it's a building. For me, it was you,” Peter sighed.  
Stiles swallowed thickly and closed his eyes. “Was?”  
“That's not what I meant-”  
“No, no, it's okay. I get it,” Stiles laughed bitterly, grabbing his keys from the hook and wiping hard at his face. “I'm going to the movies tonight. Don't bother me.”  
“Stiles, come on,” Peter reached for his wrist.  
The emissary yanked his hand away, each person in the kitchen jumping as electricity crackled and jumped from his hands to the light up above them, causing it to flicker.  
“Don't touch me. Don't bother me. Just… leave me alone,” He whispered after a few heavy seconds of silence, walking out the door as his tears began to fall.

Peter let Stiles enjoy the movie. He waited outside the door after he'd paid the Lyft driver, settled against the wall with his phone in his hands. When Stiles nearly walked past him, Peter reached out and pulled him into a hug, holding him tight and taking a second to breathe in his scent.  
“Peter, I told you not to bother me,” Stiles mumbled, his voice weak as he leaned into his boyfriend's body, his eyes falling shut.  
“You didn't mean it long term,” Peter murmured, pressing a kiss to his cheek before pressing their lips together swiftly. “Come home, please.”  
“What, to the building you think I care about more than you?”  
“No, to the people inside the building. To pack, to me. That's what you meant. I was just-”  
“I brought up the fire. I made you mad. You were getting even. Just… in front of an audience instead of just between the two of us,” Stiles mumbled, ducking his head away from Peter’s kisses. “Which wasn't fair.”  
“I know, and I'm sorry, but you know we both need to apologise for overstepping like that.”  
“You're right. Can I say my apology was breaking your grip and not shocking you earlier?”  
“No, because you don't have control over your powers enough yet to be able to create a steady, focused stream.”  
“But I also felt it coming and could have let it hit you. I nearly did, I can't lie. There was a split second where I considered letting it hit you and saying it was an accident. Then we would focus on that and not the problems and it would be forgotten and not have to be resolved,” Stiles mumbled, sighing heavily. “But then we wouldn't be talking and it would just happen again, only maybe worse, and-”  
“I get it. Can you please just say you're sorry?” Peter chuckled, interrupting his boyfriend with a kiss.  
“Mm-hmm. You're sorry,” Stiles smirked, looping his arms around Peter’s waist.  
“Come on, you know what I meant,” Peter smiled tiredly, kissing Stiles.  
“Alright, alright. I'm sorry.”  
“Wanna grab some Panda and head home?”  
“Sounds like a good plan. Let's go.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey, so, I made sure your schedule was clear. Mine, too. Grab your go bag and some Twizzlers,” Stiles grinned at Peter, biting his lip a bit nervously.  
“Oh? Why would I do that?” Peter smirked, settling his hands on Stiles’ waist and leaning in for a kiss.  
The emissary ducked out of the way, nuzzling Peter’s cheek before stepping away. “You'll do it because if you don't, you're sleeping alone tonight.”  
“Isn't that a punishment for the both of us?”  
“Yeah, but I can easily get Isaac to join me.”  
“Isaac to go where?” The blonde looked up from his phone, grinning.  
“On a romantic camping night with me. Champagne, soft blankets, a night under the stars, and me. Complete package,” Stiles smirked, glancing over at Peter before ruffling Isaac’s hair. “You down?”  
“As long as I don't have to kiss you, hell yeah!”  
“Too bad,” Peter snapped, setting a hand on Isaac’s shoulder and pushing him back down into his chair, narrowing his eyes playfully at Stiles. “I was going to say yes, you didn't need to do that.”  
“Mmm, yeah I did. It's cute how jealous you get.”  
“I get jealous because I don't share,” Peter stepped up to Stiles, fingers lacing into his hair and pulling him close. “Ever. You're mine.”  
“I'm sure you wish you could keep me on a tight leash,” Stiles smirked, kissing Peter lightly before pulling his hands from his hair. “Go grab your bag, Mr. Protective. I want dinner by the sunset because I know you love it.”

“This tent is very small,” Peter commented, stepping out of the Jeep and slinging his go bag over his shoulder.  
“Oh no. It's almost as if I did that intentionally, so you'll have to touch me. Is that okay, touching your boyfriend?” Stiles winked, grabbing the food bag from the back seat before walking over to the makeshift shelter.  
“I don't know. He keeps pulling away from me, recently,” Peter mumbled, and just like that he was pressed against Stiles’ back, nuzzling into his neck. “How does intimacy feel to you, tonight?”  
“Absolutely perfect. Once I've eaten and gotten to watch you appreciate the sunset,” Stiles smiled, closing his eyes and sighing happily.  
“Always making demands,” Peter teased, leaning forward and kissing Stiles. The younger man turned around, wrapping his arms around Peter’s neck and pressing close to him.  
“You knew what you were getting into when you decided to date me,” Stiles mumbled before kissing him again.

“I want to do something really cheesy. Say the sunset’s pretty,” Stiles murmured, pressing a kiss to Peter’s palm.  
“Hm? Oh, it's really gorgeous. A natural beauty. Don't you think?”  
“Yeah, you are.”  
Peter closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to bite back a smile. “I can't believe you.”  
“Yes, you can. You should have known that was coming!” Stiles grinned, leaning forward and kissing Peter, sliding a hand under his shirt to trace patterns over his lower abdomen.  
They fell back against the blankets, Peter crawling over Stiles and getting to work on his clothes.

“Fuck, baby, you looked gorgeous when you came,” Stiles whispered, combing his fingers through Peter’s hair and smiling warmly at him.  
“Stop buttering me up,” Peter groaned quietly, closing his eyes as he leaned into Stiles’ touch.  
“Is it buttering you up even if I'm stating fact?”  
“Asking that question was buttering me up.”  
“But it still stands. It wasn't rhetorical and you're avoiding it, so I think we both know who's right.”  
“Me. Buttering someone up is flattery, and flattery is excessive and/or insincere praise,” Peter perked his brow at Stiles, smirking as he could imagine the cogs in his brain turning over, trying to work through the perfect response.  
“Flattery would have been telling you that your orgasm face is arguably the prettiest I've ever seen, even though I've only ever seen yours or my own. Flattery would be telling you your eyes are the prettiest, when obviously - and, sorry, Isaac's are.”  
Peter couldn't even argue or get offended, the kid did have pretty nice eyes.  
“Flattery would be telling you I nearly came three times but held off on it so I could watch you orgasm. While all three of those things are fact to me, telling you would be flattery. Therefore, me saying you looked gorgeous when you came is not flattery, but stating an opinion I see as fact,” Stiles finished triumphantly, pushing back the hair that was stuck to Peter’s forehead with sweat.  
“Now that you're done, will you kiss me? I'm tired of hearing you running your mouth.”  
“You sit upon a throne of lies. My mouth is what made you cum so hard,” Stiles retorted, locking their lips in a deep kiss before Peter could respond. It worked, the alpha sighing out softly as he let his eyes close and his arms wrap around Stiles’ neck, their lips moving in sync, as if they had been doing this for decades.

Peter was still breathing a little harshly as he flipped them over, his hands resting on Stiles’ shoulders as he leaned over him a bit, his hips rolling. “Did you not cum on purpose? I'm a little pissed off you did that to me.”  
“I had a feeling this would happen after all of the reading I did, so I took my chances and didn't want to get overstimulated if you did reverse-knot me,” Stiles smiled lopsidedly, moving his hands to hold Peter’s waist. “And I'm glad I did. You're exceptionally good at riding.”  
Peter grunted and ducked down to kiss Stiles so he couldn't stare at the pink in his cheeks for too long, moving his arms so he was resting his elbows on either side of Stiles’ head. They stayed like that for a while, the younger man running his hands up and down Peter’s back occasionally, kissing offhandedly and just enjoying each others’ presence.  
Peter, especially, was indulging himself, taking the time between kisses that Stiles was regaining his breath to scent him, humming happily as he nuzzled his nose against different parts of his neck, saturating his mate with layer upon layer of his own scent.  
Once he was satisfied that Stiles reeked of him enough, Peter sat up and started rocking his hips with purpose, smirking as Stiles moaned happily, his hands settling against Peter’s thighs. He did move to cover his flaccid cock, mentally grimacing at the image the younger man had had to look at.  
“Don’t cover it,” Stiles grabbed Peter's wrist, moving his hand out of the way and rocking his hips upwards. “You still look gorgeous, even when you're flaccid.”  
Peter grunted and rolled his eyes, turning away from the younger man’s gaze.  
Stiles surged forward, wrapping his lithe fingers around Peter's neck, the other hand tangling into his hair and yanking his head back. “Don't you ever fucking _dare_ make that face when I compliment you, ever again. Do you understand?” His voice was as close to a growl he could manage, his teeth grazing over Peter’s skin pulled tight over his jaw.  
All he got from the alpha was a shallow nod, his eyes wide and his breathing short and shallow.  
“Words, Peter. Let me know you understand.”  
“Y-Yes. I do,” the wolf stuttered out, his hips moving in jilted circles as he kept his eyes trained on Stiles, pupils blown.  
“Yes, what?”  
“Yes, Stiles,” He breathed out, a full body shudder making it's way down his spine as Stiles attached his lips to his jawline, pressing warm, open-mouthed kisses along the length of the bone. “You look fucking breathtaking riding me, even with a flaccid cock,” Stiles repeated the phrase, his eyes glinting with the challenge for Peter to make a remark once more.  
All he got in response was a soft, pitiful sounding whimper as the man riding his cock let his eyes flutter shut and his hips roll in a way to rub Stiles’ cock against his prostate. “Good boy,” The younger man purred, his hands moving to hold Peter’s waist as he rolled his hips up. “What a pliant little alpha,” He whispered with a smirk, this time scraping his teeth over Peter's neck. He was met with an almost feral growl, the wolf above him slamming him down against the blankets and flashing his eyes red.  
“You little shit.”  
“Mmm, yeah. But you're hard again,” Stiles snickered, tangling his fingers back in Peter's hair and giving it a hard tug, taking the moment he gasped and went pliant to flip them, pinning him back below him. “And I think you prefer being manhandled even more than I do.”  
Peter narrowed his eyes at Stiles, flashing them red, and was about to refute that statement with the best comeback ever, but Stiles pressed a hand against his lower abdomen and rolled his hips in a way that had Peter seeing stars, the words dying on his tongue and the only noise escaping his mouth a strangled cry of pleasure as his eyes rolled backwards in his head. “Not so nice when I give you a taste of your own medicine, huh, baby?” Stiles purred, running his tongue over the shell of Peter's ear before nipping at his earlobe, driving his hips home again and watching in awe as Peter’s back arched off the ground with a silent scream. “Holy shit, you're gorgeous, baby. I should've done this earlier,” Stiles whispered, taking to rolling his hips, flush against Peter, a hand still pressed against his abdomen.  
“You want me to touch your cock, baby? Hm? Get my little helpless alpha off? Is that what you need?” Stiles whispered, the fingers on his free hand carding through Peter’s hair as he kept whimpering and moaning, writhing under Stiles and occasionally bucking his hips downwards against Stiles’ cock. “Does my pretty little alpha need me?”  
Peter’s eyes flashed again before rolling back in his head at a jab of Stiles’ cock inside of him, the growl in his throat dying on a broken moan. He finally managed to get a word out, so soft and quiet that Stiles almost thought he'd mistaken him, but the way Peter was looking at him sent his blood boiling and set his gut on fire.  
“Help.”

Peter came with a loud cry of Stiles’ name, the younger man grunting quietly as he followed, the two of them kissing a bit shakily, both winded.  
“Definitely one of our better date nights,” Stiles panted, grinning at Peter, who chuckled and pulled him down for a kiss.  
“Shut up and let me enjoy my afterglow.”  
“Only if you hold me while we fall asleep,” Stiles murmured, draping a blanket over them and sighing happily. Peter looped his arms around Stiles’ torso and pulled him to lay on top of his body.


	4. Your Arms Feel Like Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't care if I lost everything that I have known  
> It don't matter where I lay my head tonight  
> Your arms feel like home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>   
> 

“Corey, Liam, Theo and Hayden have made their decision,” Stiles said quietly, stepping in front of Peter and grabbing his hands, twining their fingers together.  
“They're saying no.”  
“I-We… It… I tried, but I also knew at a certain point it would be forcing them. It's okay. We still have a strong pack. It would be worse for you to have disloyal and unrested members than to lose them now,” Stiles murmured, leaning up to kiss Peter. “Do you need to go for a run or do-”  
Peter surged down and kissed Stiles hard, pulling him tight against his body. “I don't need anything but you right now.”  
“While I like the sound of that, is it a need that I need to shower for?” Stiles winked playfully, nuzzling into his neck and sighing happily.  
“No, it's something we need our blanket and Netflix for,” Peter murmured, combing through Stiles’ hair and holding him close.  
“Pizza, too?” Stiles asked softly, and Peter frowned at the slightly bitter undertone to his scent.  
“No, uh, you don't want pizza, so-”  
“Tonight’s about you, Peter. Pizza.”  
“Tonight _is_ about me, so I say Chinese takeout. Peanut chicken and sticky rice.”  
“You hate peanut chicken,” Stiles sighed.  
“But you like it, and you're sacrificing a night out with Lydia to stay with me. We're having peanut chicken, and you're gonna let me give you something you like.”  
“All I need is you and your stubborn ass,” Stiles muttered, pinching Peter’s butt before wiggling out of his grip and running to the couch, grinning as Peter followed him with a playful growl. He pounced on his boyfriend and pinned him down before kissing him, sighing happily.  
“You're a little shit, you know?”  
“Mmm, but you like it.”  
“No, I like _you_ , so I put up with your attitude,” Peter huffed, nudging at Stiles’ chin for him to hold his head back. Once he did, Peter growled softly and sucked a mark right over his pulse point, one hand moving from holding Stiles’ wrist to comb through his hair and tug it lightly when he finished.  
“You tell me I don't need to shower, and then you do this,” Stiles huffed, a little out of breath as he released his death grip on the alpha’s shoulders.  
“Because I'm going to blow you, we're going to cuddle and watch Parks and Rec, and then maybe I'll let you get me off later.”  
“Maybe? Who says I want to?” Stiles teased, slipping his hands under Peter’s shirt and rubbing up and down his back. “As if I'd give you the satisfaction.”  
“Then I'll happily fall asleep to Parks and Rec on the couch with you,” Peter smirked, scooting up to kiss Stiles softly before nipping at his lower lip and gyrating his hips, rubbing right over his dick. The moan from his boyfriend had Peter’s wolf preening, and he kept up the movement as Stiles’ fingers scrabbled to dig in to the skin on his back.  
When the younger man could finally break the kiss, he threw a half-hearted glare to Peter’s smirk before closing his eyes and grunting softly. “You're a little shit.”  
“Mmm, but I'm your little shit. Don't sound so upset,” Peter chuckled, pressing open-mouthed kisses over Stiles’ neck.  
“Shut up,” Stiles grunted, tangling his fingers in Peter’s hair and hauling him back up for a kiss, his other hand moving to wrap around the alpha’s shoulders.

The ding of the doorbell and the arrival of their Postmate had the two boyfriends groaning in disgust, looking at the other expectantly before they both giggled. “Carry me, and I'll pay,” Stiles bartered, kissing Peter’s cheek.  
“I'll raise you. I carry you and I pay,” the alpha smirked, nuzzling Stiles’ cheek. “Or, even better, I just beat you to the door and pay myself.”  
“No, no! You wouldn't dare!” Stiles gasped, scrabbling to his feet only to watch and complain loudly as he ran after Peter once the wolf had jumped over the back of the couch and sprinted to the door.  
“Don’t take any of his money, I’m tipping you. I already paid you through the app,” Peter didn’t even give the poor girl a second to introduce herself before handing her a twenty dollar bill, holding Stiles back with his other hand.  
“No! Don’t take his money! It’s dirty! Could you handle having that on your conscience?” Stiles complained, trying to reach around Peter and hand her his own tip.  
“I’ll help the both of you out,” the girl laughed, catching Stiles’ tip and holding the food out to them. “You both tipped me, my night has been made, and your food will still be warm and edible if you two stop arguing and take it now.”  
Peter perked his brow while Stiles laughed heartily. “I like your style!”  
She smiled proudly and closed her delivery bag. “I do have to verify with you that you received the proper food that you ordered, just as a bit of insurance for myself.”  
Stiles grabbed the bag from Peter, giggling and ducking away when he tried to grab it again. “Since I’ll be the one eating, because Mr. Chivalry over here decided what to get…” Stiles trailed off, humming happily when Peter settled on holding his waist.  
“We have soy sauce… the chicken smells absolutely divine, and… perfect! Even the veggies are still warm.”  
“I passed with flying colors?” The girl asked with a chuckle, putting her tip in the fanny pack she had around her waist.  
“Absolutely. Thank you so much,” Peter smiled genuinely. After she nodded back, he pulled Stiles backwards and shut and locked the door before nipping at the younger man’s earlobe. “What a pain you are.”  
“Yeah, but you love it.”  
Peter paused for a second before steeling himself mentally. “No. I love _you.”_


	5. Love Hurts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love hurts...  
> But sometimes it's a good hurt  
> And it feels like I'm alive.  
> Love sings,  
> When it transcends the bad things.  
> Have a heart and try me,  
> 'cause without love I won't survive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>   
> 

Peter just said it. What Stiles had been fearing. And he wanted to say it back, but the only thing he could blurt was, “I'm going to college in a week.”  
Peter frowned and turned to look at Stiles, swallowing thickly. “You're going to college?”  
“I sacrificed it for Scott, and I sacrificed another year to build what we have. Peter, I want to go for psychology and behavioral analysis. It would help me as an emissary since I can't just take a whiff and figure out everyone's deepest darkest secrets.”  
“Why are you telling me this… now?”  
“Because, I-I… I think we need to break for the two years I'll be gone. I'm too messed up emotionally to be able to be away from you so long, and you're too jealous of a person for it to work properly. I'd have to give you hourly updates, hang out only with certain people, and Peter…” Stiles huffed, rubbing his hands over his face. “That would be too much for me to focus on at once.”  
“So, maintaining this relationship would be unhealthy for you?” Peter scoffed, shaking his head. “Wow.”  
“You're the one that said the L word. If you hadn't said it I wouldn't think we needed to break.”  
“Seriously, Stiles? Are you fifteen years old? I fucking love you, but because I love you and let you know, you're going to break things off? I should have listened to Malia. Holy hell, she was right.”  
“Of course she was,” Stiles chuckled bitterly, standing up from the couch and pulling his shirt back on.  
“She said you'd run when it came to commitment.”  
“She dumped _me_ when I didn't say it back because I wasn't there yet. I wasn't going to lie to her.”  
“So you're not there yet with me, and you're just jumping the gun? I don't fucking need you to say it just because I say it, Stiles! I'm saying it-”  
“I fucking love you, Peter, okay!” Stiles was yelling, jabbing his finger against Peter’s chest. “I fucking love you and your shitty personality and how greedy you are with my time, and that's why I'm cutting this off! I'd let you distract me from my work, pull me from studies to drive back here and comfort you. I'd let you tell me who not to be around and let my grades suffer because of how fucking much I care about you and your sensitive bit of confidence in me to remain faithful to you. So, yeah, sure, Malia was fucking right. Scott was, too.”  
Peter clenched his jaw and set his shoulders, his eyes flashing. “Really? You're going for a low blow?”  
“I'm just giving what I'm getting. He told me you'd be this way. God, the one fucking thing he was right about is the worst possible thing it could have been.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I told him I loved him, Derek, and he yelled at me. He said Scott was right about me. And then he took his things and just… left. He's going to Irvine. 40 minutes away on a good day. He's running-”  
“Have you taken a second to think that he may have a point, Peter? You're both unhealthy for each other. You fight constantly, you have sex or run instead of talking through it, and you're manipulative of each other. He was smart to have you both take a break like this,” Derek murmured, grabbing the bottle of moonshine from Peter and putting it back in the liquor cabinet.  
“How can my own family be against me?”  
“I'm not against you, Peter. I'm telling you what you need to hear. That said, it was shitty of him to say it right after you told him you love him, Peter.”  
The alpha sighed and dropped his head against the kitchen counter. “I didn't want him to leave. He left me. He used his feelings to say the worst things. He said he loved me and that was why he's leaving,” Peter whispered, closing his eyes and swallowing thickly. “That's what he said.”  
Derek sighed quietly and set a hand on his uncle’s back, rubbing over the tense muscles there. “How are you going to tell the pack?”  
“He wants to keep the facade up while he's gone so we can 'mature’ and maybe get to a better place,” Peter muttered, moving away from Derek’s touch.  
“So, you're on a break, but not really?” Derek smirked, setting a glass of water in front of Peter. “It sounds like he wants the two of you to think through everything but not separate for real. Almost a sabbatical. Maybe even see a therapist…” Derek finished with a pointed look to Peter, setting the aspirin down. “Heaven above and hell below know you both need it. Irvine's psychology wing offers therapy to all of its students for free. Stiles asked me when he was looking for colleges.”  
“Why wouldn't he ask me?”  
“Because it's something he wanted to grow on without you hovering over him, Peter. He feels crushed by how much you overpower him sometimes.”  
“Why wouldn't he tell me?”  
“Because you'd overcompensate by never being around him,” Derek murmured, patting Peter on the shoulder. “I'm going to bed. You should get some rest. Stiles left a load in the dirty clothes I haven't touched. In case you need to scent.”  
Peter nodded stiffly and stood from the counter.  
He went straight to their room instead of the laundry room. He wasn't going to baby himself. This was a punishment. Stiles didn't believe in him to survive healthily without him.  
Peter wanted to, but the second he opened the door to his room he was bombarded with the memory of the first night Stiles stayed over.

 _“You're sure I can stay?” Stiles was grinning, turning to look at Peter. His heart genuinely skipped a beat and he took a second to stare at the young man before him, a fond expression overtaking his usually stoic presence._  
_“Why would I bring you to my room, say you can stay, and then kick you out? I know you like to tell everyone I'm an incorrigible asshole, a truly evil monster beneath my gorgeous exterior,” Peter smirked, covering Stiles’ mouth when it opened to make a comment, “but that is heartless. And I know you know I'm not heartless.”_  
_The pink that tinged Stiles’ face had Peter's wolf rumbling happily as he leaned in for a kiss, framing his boyfriend's-the word still sent a chill down his spine!- face as they embraced, slender fingers grabbing his waist. Peter nudged the door shut with his foot when he heard quiet snickering, pulling Stiles in close and growling quietly._  
_Stiles broke the kiss after a few seconds, his anxiety flooding the room and making Peter whine softly, nuzzling his neck. “What's wrong?”_  
_“I’m still a virgin, I-uh, I don't want to, t-tonight. Like… do anything, but, y’know, actually sleep…”_  
_Peter chuckled quietly and kissed Stiles’ cheek before straightening up. “I don't want to, either. Neither of us showered today, and we're both exhausted. Go change in the bathroom.”_  
_Stiles was still blushing as he nodded and did as told. He came back shirtless and in a pair of Peter’s sweats sitting low on his waist. He yawned and the scrunch of his nose had Peter’s unabashed fondness resurfacing, and he couldn't help grabbing Stiles’ waist and tackling him into the bed, nuzzling at his neck._  
_The young man laughed happily, combing through Peter’s hair and sighing happily. “I wish we could just… live in these moments,” He murmured, kissing Peter’s forehead and smiling tiredly. “Watching you smile and act like this, feeling safe and being able to enjoy this moment, holding each other, comfy and together…” he trailed off, sighing quietly and leaning forward to kiss Peter again. The wolf let out a low whine as he kissed back, pulling him in closer._  
_“I wish I could keep you from the bad things so this is all we could do,” Peter mumbled, nudging his nose against Stiles’ cheek before going back to his neck, littering the skin before him with soft kisses._  
_“That would entail you putting the weight of the world on your shoulders,” Stiles huffed, tracing designs over Peter’s back, letting his eyes fall shut. “You do that, and we're over.”_  
_Peter froze in his movements, leaning back to look at Stiles._  
_The younger man peeked open an eye, sighing. “You're not allowed to be the only one with responsibility. We share that, or this isn't going to work out. Does that sound better?”_  
_“I guess,” Peter grumbled, leaning forward for a soft kiss before they both smiled and settled in together._  
_It was the first full night of rest Peter had gotten in a while, and the first time in years he'd slept in and woken to sunlight streaming through the windows with a smile. Stiles was in his arms, snoring quietly and tangled up in the sheets._

Peter could feel tears pricking at his eyes as he slammed shut his door and slid the lock in place, rubbing at his face furiously. He was _not_ going to cry over Stiles, not when he'd left like he did.  
He didn't even put on pyjamas, just shucked his clothes down to his boxers before flopping down on the mattress, tears starting to spill over despite his distaste of them. Stiles’ scent washed over him and he let out a broken noise, grabbing his boyfriend's pillow and burying his face in it, trying to drown himself in his scent and sorrows. It was going to be a long night.


	6. You Don't Own Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You don't own me  
> Don't tie me down 'cause I'd never stay  
> I don't tell you what to say  
> I don't tell you what to do  
> So just let me be myself  
> That's all I ask of you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>   
> 

“Yo yo yo! Wasabi, my pack dudes!” Stiles was slurring, his mind fuzzy with alcohol and his mood lifted for the first time in a while. Isaac had picked Stiles up from an end of the year party after it had devolved into a pretty loose orgy and the two of them decided it was time to get going.  
“Wasabi?” Lydia looked over her shoulder, giving Stiles a once over before sighing heavily. “Why did you let him get wasted, Isaac?”  
“He disappeared. I couldn't even scent him, there were so many people and so much smoke. It was difficult to see, even. What he did on his own wasn't my fault.”  
“Then why does he reek of sex?”  
“It devolved into some kind of… orgy. I don't know. We managed to find each other and get out, we weren't going to get involved in it.”  
“You two should shower before Peter gets home and assumes anything else, then,” Derek murmured, sighing heavily. “Give me his clothes once you get him to the shower.”  
The doorknob clicked and Isaac swallowed thickly, reaching for Stiles’ wrist. The emissary was already stumbling towards the door, grinning and calling out, “Peter!” with grabby hands towards the alpha as he came in the door.  
Peter perked his brow but caught Stiles nonetheless when he stumbled forward, smirking small when the young man nuzzled into his neck. Peter coughed at the onslaught to his senses, of booze, weed, sweat and sex. He sighed and scooped Stiles up with one arm, settling him against his hip. “I'll get him showered if you can take the supplies and stock my cabinet, Derek.”  
“Y-You’re not upset I lost him and he's wasted?” Isaac asked quietly, picking at the hem of his shirt.  
Peter grabbed his hand and held it, smiling tiredly. “You can't control him. He's home safe, and apparently very happy. And don't destroy any more of your shirts like this. I ordered you one of those fidget cubes to mess with,” Peter murmured, squeezing Isaac’s hand softly before letting go. He nuzzled the younger wolf's cheek before brushing his knuckles against Lydia and Allison’s shoulders before heading upstairs with Stiles.  
“Mmm, my Peter. Alone. Kiss me,” Stiles mumbled, lifting his head and pressing a kiss to Peter’s cheek, smiling dopily. “Pretty pretty please? 'was good. Left so I di’n’ have sex. People kept grabbing me.”  
“I'll tell you what,” Peter murmured, setting Stiles down gently and kissing his forehead. “Get changed, give me your clothes, and shower. I'll have some boxers on the counter for you.”  
“Can they be yours?” Stiles asked hopefully, biting his lip and cuddling up to Peter and batting his eyelashes dramatically.  
“As if I'd give you anyone else's,” Peter chuckled, gently nudging Stiles towards the bathroom.

When he came back out, rubbing his eyes and yawning, wearing nothing but a pair of Peter’s boxers, Peter grabbed his waist and pulled him in close. “You're tired.”  
“I wanna sleep, but I need a good night kiss,” Stiles mumbled, bumping his lips against Peter’s chin before sighing quietly. “Please?”  
Peter ducked down and connected their lips, settling his hands on Stiles’ hips before the younger man's arms looped loosely around his neck. They stayed together for a while before Stiles finally ducked his head down, sighing happily as he nuzzled against Peter’s chest. “'m really tired, babe.”  
“You are, now, huh?” Peter chuckled, rubbing between Stiles’ shoulders before guiding him over to the bed.  
Stiles flopped down on the bed with a dramatic sigh, making a grabby hand at Peter. “Wanna be spooned.”  
“Of course you do. Let me get changed and I'll be in bed.”  
Stiles hummed in response, grabbing Peter’s pillow and burying his face in it, sighing happily.  
The alpha came back in nothing but a pair of his own boxers, climbing in behind Stiles and pulling him close.  
Peter was almost asleep when he heard Stiles mumble something, and all he could do was open his eyes and stare at the back of his emissary’s head.  
“I love you, Peter.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles woke up to not only an empty bed, but a pretty empty loft the next morning, after trying to see if anyone was home. He found an aspirin and water on the counter with a small sticky note with a smiley face on it from Derek. He texted a quick thank you to the wolf before taking the pills, following the sounds of talking to Peter’s study. He peeked through the door before pausing, his heart dropping. Peter and Chris were close together, and Chris had a gift box in his hand.  
“I was wondering what you thought?”  
“It's perfect,” Peter grinned, lifting the watch from the box and examining it, sitting against the edge of his desk before smiling blindingly at Chris.  
Stiles stumbled backwards away from the door before going upstairs, trying to breathe.  
Peter was just humoring him at this point.  
Keeping up appearances for the pack. He didn't want Stiles, he was just a selfish asshole. Using Stiles, playing his emotions.  
He was curled up in a corner of the old guest room that has been his, dialing Erica before he knew what he was doing.  
“Stiles?”  
“You were right. You were right, Erika. Chris, he's-he just gave Peter a gift. He's courting him, werewolf style. Fuck, I'm such an idiot-”  
“Hey, hey, breathe. Boyd and I are coming over. Where are you, Micky?”  
“In the old room. I can't… I don't know what to do with myself. He even kissed me last night. Took care of me. And he's doing that with Chris,” Stiles choked out, pulling his knees close to his chest as tears started falling freely. “I didn't know he wanted to break up like that. I would've fucked myself senseless last night if I knew that was how he felt.”  
“Hey, hey, don't think about that right now. Tell me about finals, or your music studies you took on the side.”  
“M-Music?”  
“Yeah. Better yet, sing that song you told me about learning.”  
“C-Can I play the accompaniment?” Stiles asked quietly, trying to take a deep breath.  
“Sure, Stiles. Is it okay if I put you on speaker so Boyd can hear, too?”  
“It's a love song. Maybe you'll be able to appreciate it.”  
“We'll appreciate it no matter what, because it's you singing. Even if you are an idiot.”  
“Thanks, Boyd,” Stiles laughed wetly, sniffing and rubbing his eyes as he put his own phone on speaker and started the accompaniment from its Dropbox file.  
“How do I love you, let me count the ways? How do I love you, let me cou-” Stiles’ voice broke and he ducked his head away, trying to take a steadying breath.  
“Keep going, it sounds beautiful,” Erica whispered.  
“I love you to the depth, and breadth and height. My soul can reach when feeling out of sight of Grace. I love you to the level, of every day’s most quiet need. By sun and candle light. By sun-” Stiles’ voice broke again and this time he let out a quiet sob, pulling his knees back up to his chest.  
“Hey, we're in the parking lot and coming upstairs. Stay where you are and we'll be there soon, Stiles. Do you still need me on the phone?”  
“No, no, it's okay,” Stiles choked out, ending the call before letting out another quiet sob and throwing his phone against the bed a few feet away from him.  
Erica and Boyd came in the room a minute later, the blonde kneeling down in front of Stiles and pulling him in for a hug, gently scratching her nails over Stiles’ scalp. “You're good, Stiles, I've got you.”  
Boyd kneeled down as well, smiling encouragingly at the emissary. “Do you want me to grab you some clothes?”  
“Why can't he dress himself?” Peter asked from the doorway, Chris peering over his shoulder.  
“You need to step away,” Erica snapped, glaring daggers at Peter as Boyd stood, squeezing her shoulder. “I've got this baby. Just stay here.”  
He walked out of the room and closed the door behind himself, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked at Peter, then Chris.  
“You're either a serious dick or there's been a misunderstanding.”  
“Excuse me?” Peter scoffed, trying to reach for the doorknob and flashing his eyes when Boyd grabbed his wrist and stopped him.  
“Are you cheating on Stiles with Chris?”  
The two older men shared an incredulous look before Peter scoffed loudly. “As if he would be so lucky.”  
Chris rolled his eyes and sighed. “Peter's not the Hale I'm courting.”  
“Then why were you giving him a gift?”  
“I was seeking his approval before giving it to the person it's intended for. Courting requires an alpha’s approval.”  
“For your sake with Erica’s revenge policy, you better be telling the truth, and be able to convince her.”

“You're sure this is the truth?” Erica was standing between Peter and Stiles, glaring down the alpha.  
Stiles sighed quietly and reached forward, grabbing her arm. “He is. It makes sense. He and Derek have been together a lot recently, and it is traditional for alphas to approve each step of courtship.”  
She turned to look at him, frowning slightly. “Do you want us to leave so you two can talk?”  
“Y-Yeah. I screwed up. I didn't trust him because I've been gone for so long. I'm sorry I involved you and Boyd,” Stiles whispered, and Erica sat beside him before pulling him in for a hug, kissing his temple. “Call me afterwards and let me know how it goes. Our door is always open,” she murmured before standing and grabbing Boyd’s hand, leading him out.  
“I'm sorry you thought this happened. I need you to know that I respect you and Peter, as well as myself, too much to ever do anything like that, okay? And I already forgive you, I know you were lead to believe something was happening, and we were meeting alone,” Chris said quietly setting a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. At a lack of response from the emissary, he squeezed his shoulder, nodded a goodbye to Peter, and left.  
The alpha sighed heavily and sat on the edge of the coffee table in front of Stiles, setting his elbows on his knees.  
“What am I going to do with you?”  
“What's that supposed to mean?” Stiles frowned, looking up at Peter.  
“You come home last night wasted, reeking of other people and their sex, covered in… bruises or hickeys, I have no way of knowing. And how do I know you didn't do anything while you were away? Yet-” Peter chuckled sardonically before continuing, “you have the audacity to think I'm the one cheating.”  
“Seriously, that's where you want to go with this? You want to accuse me of cheating before I even have a chance to apologize?”  
“Yes, because you blew up and involved other people before coming to me. I've waited for you for your first year, letting you come home and use me as you see fit. So, is that why you think I'm cheating on you? I found someone who will actually appreciate me and treat me like I should be treated? Who isn't fucking around in their free time with people their own age-”  
“You were scared I was cheating because I'm too young for you. Listening to Malia, again?” Stiles muttered, standing from the couch. He shrugged off Peter’s hand when he reached for him, turning around and glaring him down. “You don't get to project your insecurities on me, too, okay, dumbass?”  
“Oh, so you get to! What the fuck, Stiles?”  
“I was going to apologize! You didn't let me! You're retaliating! I was going to ask for your forgiveness! I was going to make it up to you! But you went and fell into old habits before I had a chance.”  
“Don't fucking walk away from me, Stiles. We're not done here!”  
“You don't get to tell me what to do! I'm going to Erica and Boyd’s!”  
“Get back here!” Peter snarled, his eyes flashing red as he grabbed Stiles’ arm and pulled him from the door.  
Stiles narrowed his eyes and put his hand to the center of Peter’s chest, electricity running down his arm before shoving Peter backwards into a chair, his eyes crackling with energy. “Listen up, dickface. You don’t own me. I’m pack, not property. I understand that they start with the same letter, but I must have mistaken you for someone who actually respected me as a person. Fuck you. I'm going to Erica and Boyd’s, and you are going to have to fucking deal with it.”


	7. All I Ask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't need your honesty  
> It's already in your eyes  
> And I'm sure my eyes, they speak for me  
> No one knows me like you do  
> And since you're the only one that matters  
> Tell me who do I run to?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>   
> 

Stiles came back the next morning and stepped into the kitchen, starting breakfast as usual.  
When Peter came downstairs, he didn't turn from the stove, merely broke two more eggs into the pan and began scrambling them.  
“You made it back safely.”  
“Yeah, sorry,” Stiles muttered, pouring a bit of milk in with the eggs before turning his attention back to the grits on the stove.  
The room was heavy with silence until Isaac shuffled in, cuddling up to Stiles’ side and making a happy rumbling noise. “Morning. Smells good.”  
“Want some?” Stiles smiled, leaning his head against Isaac’s shoulder for a second before scooping off the first batch of eggs onto a plate and cracking open a few more for Isaac.  
“Mine can have cheese in them?”  
“I wouldn't make them any other way, bud,” Stiles smiled, nuzzling Isaac’s cheek before the wolf separated from his side, sitting beside Peter at the counter and setting his head on his shoulder.  
“Can we do something today? Like… shopping, or a movie? Picnic?”  
“Shopping sounds good. I need some summer clothes,” Stiles mumbled, setting a plate loaded with eggs, grits and bacon in front of Peter before adding cheese to Isaac’s plate. He smiled warmly at Derek when he shuffled in, grumbling a quiet 'good morning’ to the room before heading straight to the coffee pot. Stiles handed him his favorite mug, smiling fondly at him. “Want a plate?”  
“Just some grits.”

”You should get some v-necks. You look good in them,” Isaac suggested, tugging Stiles to the pastel colored shirts in the H&M they were at.  
“V-necks are my thing,” Peter huffed, following the two of them with Derek at his side.  
“Stiles does look good in them, though. And yours are baggy on him, not good for semi-formal wear. Which reminds me-” Derek grabbed both of their shoulders, turning them to face him. “You both need khakis for the State Packs Meeting we'll be attending, as well as some button ups and maybe a bowtie or two. It's semi-formal, and the two of you will be representing properly.”  
“We should take them for a suit fitting, too. Isn't there supposed to be a black tie event?” Peter murmured, handing Stiles a pair of maroon skinny jeans he remembered the emissary mentioning he needed earlier.  
Peter kept his gaze trained on Derek as he felt Stiles’ eyes boring into him, reaching for his hand and giving it a small squeeze. Hopefully forgiveness could come soon.

“I think the emerald for Stiles, dark blue for Isaac?” Derek suggested, holding a sample of the fabric colors to each of the boys.  
“Burgundy for Stiles, the color complements his eyes. And take the royal blue for Isaac, it will make his eyes pop and he won't look so pale,” Peter murmured, looking up from a satin patterned suit. “But is a colored suit okay for black tie?”  
“It's really only formal, black tie suggested. Leave it to these two to be extra and stand out.”  
“I plan on this satin pattern over the black polyester, so it won't be that bad. Three is better than two, right?”  
“I live with drama queens.”  
“Chris is wearing a maroon suit,” Stiles smirked, waggling his brow at Derek. “You're escaping from nothing.”  
“Erica said Boyd is going for a white one. He’s gonna look hot,” Isaac grinned, leaning against Stiles before nuzzling his cheek and sighing happily. “I'm glad you're back home. Missed you.”  
“Missed you too, Izzy. But we need to get fitted,” Stiles chuckled, kissing Isaac’s temple before separating their bodies and stepping on the pedestal, the wolf mirroring his actions.

“What's this meeting thingy Derek and Peter are talking about?” Isaac asked Stiles, the two of them munching on a pretzel while the Hales looked through a store the two younger men were too scared of stepping foot in - they couldn't afford to.  
“If it's what they discussed with me a month or so ago, the packs in California-as well as other states-are trying to have a bit of a get together to establish territory and maybe some basic standards of pack dealings and diplomacy.”  
“That sounds intricate. Is everyone attending? From us?”  
“Our pack is small enough that we can, but I hear some packs are so massive that they're only bringing a select group of members. Could you imagine? Hundreds of members in your pack? It would be insane,” Stiles murmured, taking a bite of his pretzel and shaking his head.  
“But it means they're all families. They have kids and parents and a close knit community. That sounds amazing,” Isaac sighed quietly, leaning against Stiles.  
They both jumped slightly when a camera flash went off, looking to the source - a pair of women that were now approaching.  
“Hi, sorry about that. We wanted to snatch that photo of the two of you, absolutely adorable! We're cataloguing couples out in the mall and thought the two of you looked absolutely cute! We can delete the photo if-”  
“Oh, I'm not his boyfriend,” Isaac laughed, waving at Peter for his attention so he'd join them, Derek following closely. “That's Stiles’ boyfriend.”  
The alpha perked his brow, giving Stiles a quizzical look before offering a polite smile to the two women. “Are these two causing trouble?”  
“Oh, no,” The lady with the camera laughed. “We were photographing cute couples around the mall for a promo and mistook your boyfriend and his friend as a couple.”  
“They are awfully close, I'm not surprised,” Peter chuckled, sliding his arm around Stiles’ waist and pulling him in close, hooking a finger through a belt loop on his jeans.  
“Would it be okay if I took a picture of the two of you together? You're both very attractive and would definitely encourage a younger crowd to shop here, if they had a chance of running into you.”  
“No, you see, I'm not really that hot. I just stand next to him, and he's so attractive that it tricks people into thinking I am,” Stiles smirked, turning slightly and wrapping his arms around Peter’s torso, pressing close and savoring the bodily contact for the time he'd have it.  
“Don't talk like that,” Peter huffed, bringing his other hand around to cup Stiles’ cheek and brush a crumb away from the corner of his mouth. The look in the alpha’s eyes had Stiles’ heart racing and aching, longing for that affection to always be directed at him, but knowing that it would most likely never happen again after this.  
The camera flash went off again, Stiles the only one jumping in surprise before ducking his head down, trying to hide the pained look that was undoubtedly on his face, forcing the tears back. He felt Peter kiss his forehead and squeeze him before letting taking a Polaroid from the photographer. “We look good.”  
Stiles snuck a glance at it and tried to keep his food from coming back up. Peter was so fucking good at faking everything, still able to look at Stiles like he was the center of the universe. The emissary smiled weakly and nodded, excusing himself to the bathroom.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You can't tell me you didn't smell how bitter he was about the photo. It was overwhelming. And then he smelled like vomit afterwards. Actual, genuine vomit,” Peter mumbled, shaking his head before running his fingers through his hair in frustration. “But the way he said he loves me that morning after Isaac came down, his affection and warmth-he smelled like pancakes, then. How does he do it?”  
“Maybe because you're both dumbasses that don't realize each of you has feelings for the other. You keep convincing yourself that it's not real, feeling like shit, and pulling away from each other,” Derek snapped, slamming down the knives he'd been using to slice and portion a hunk of beef for future meals. “You're both fucking idiots and I'm _tired_ of having to play therapist! Use your words! Stop being shitty to each other!”  
Peter stared at his nephew in silence before standing up from the counter and heading upstairs. He could hear Stiles’ softer breathing, letting him know the emissary was close to falling asleep. He made sure he was quiet as he undressed for bed and climbed in under the sheets. He caught himself reaching for Stiles just in time, trying not to audibly scoff at himself before he rolled over, putting his back to the younger man.  
Why couldn't listening to Derek be easier?

 

 

* * *

 

 

The next day was spent in bed, Peter and Stiles blinking open their eyes to find themselves facing each other. Peter had an arm tossed over Stiles, their legs twined. The emissaries’ hand was placed over the alpha’s heart, the two of them sharing a pillow. Neither said a word when Peter pulled Stiles closer, or when Stiles splayed his hand out and brushed his thumb delicately over his chest.  
They stayed quiet and still, tense and relaxed at the same time, the most comfortable they've ever been and the most on edge they've ever been. When Stiles ducked his face to sneeze, he'd felt Peter's heart rate pick up and brushed his finger against his collarbone before sliding the hand from his chest to hold his waist.  
They shut their eyes when Isaac opened the door, cooing happily and snapping a photo on his phone before Derek muttered something and pulled him out of the room. Peter was smiling when Stiles opened his eyes, and he was burning with the want to ask what it was, but Peter's eyes were opening and Stiles looked away, turning his face into the pillow to yawn.  
When Peter shifted to get up, Stiles’ heart started pounding and he tightened his hold on the wolf’s waist.  
“We have to start the day,” Peter sighed quietly, gently pulling Stiles’ arm from his body, squeezing his hand lightly before sitting up in the bed. “We have that Cali Summit to prepare for. It's next week.”  
Stiles sat up and slid his arms around Peter’s waist from behind, clearing his throat. “But you're warm,” he argued weakly, nuzzling his face between Peter’s shoulder blades and closing his eyes.  
“Wear my sweats and one of my sweaters. You're a big boy.”

Stiles tailed behind Peter most of the day, sniffling occasionally and shrugging off his and Derek’s suggestion of cold medication. It tasted gross and meant admitting he was sick. He wasn't ready to just yet.  
“I have my materials on our own diplomacy towards other packs, h-how-” Stiles cut himself off with a coughing fit, covering his mouth as his body wracked violently.  
“You're taking the damn meds, even if you don't want to,” Peter muttered, walking to the kitchen to grab the cold and flu syrup and a bottle of water, setting them in front of Stiles. He brushed his knuckles over the emissary’s cheek before taking his seat again, looking through the materials they'd all prepared. “You're not going to be sick for this. I-We need you.”  
Stiles nodded and took the meds, leaning into Peter’s space before the wolf couldn't help himself and wrapped an arm around the younger man, squeezing his shoulder.  
Stiles fell asleep halfway through the meeting, right after Peter slipped his arm around him. Or because he stopped shivering. Either one.


	8. Should've Been Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thinking it could be different  
> But maybe we missed it yeah  
> Thinking it could be different  
> It could

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>   
> 

“So, you're enjoying meeting everyone and talking?” Peter asked quietly, scooting closer to Stiles as Derek picked his feet up and put them on the couch, leaning a bit heavier into Chris, who was radiating contentment.  
“I've had some issues with the comments on both Hales choosing humans, one possessed by a demon and one that used to be a member of the deadliest family of hunters,” Stiles muttered, setting his head on Peter’s shoulder. “And then, double that with the assholes that keep hitting on me-”  
“What?”  
“Apparently I don't smell enough like you to be properly respected,” Stiles muttered, cuddling closer to Peter before closing his eyes. “It's been exhausting.”  
“Do you need me to accompany you around more?” Peter murmured, combing his fingers through Stiles’ hair and biting back a happy rumble when the emissary closed his eyes and nuzzled into his neck.  
“I wouldn't mind it. I know we'll be together at the event tomorrow night, but there's a powers course and I'd like to have you there. Even if you piss me off a lot, you're my anchor. It would make me feel a lot safer.”  
Peter nodded before sighing heavily and looking at Derek. “Would you and Chris like the couch, nephew? Your feet are touching my ass.”  
“No, we're fine,” Derek smirked, purposely pushing his feet a little farther under Peter.  
“You're incorrigible.”  
“Ooh, nice word. It seems to run in the family,” Stiles teased, nuzzling his face in Peter's neck before yawning. “I think I want to turn in.”  
“Actually, the two of you should go to your room. I left you a surprise.”  
“Maybe we should sleep in Derek and Chris’s bed tonight,” Stiles mumbled, sliding his arms around Peter before letting his eyes close.  
“Sounds like it could work, but then you may smell of too many people.”  
Stiles groaned quietly before standing and stretching, walking to the door between the two rooms, Peter following him with a steadying hand on his lower back. He turned around to say goodnight but saw Derek immediately behind him, and the wolf shut the door, the lock clicking into place. “He's eager to get us out,” Peter chuckled, before frowning at Stiles’ expression. “What?”  
“The fucker just locked us in here.”  
“Yeah, but we can still get out.”  
Stiles gave Peter a look dripping with sass. “Touch the door, please, and let me know how that goes for you.”  
Peter turned around slowly after giving Stiles a weird look. He gripped the doorknob before reeling back, snarling at the pain that shot up his arm. “What the fuck was that!?”  
“He asked me a couple of days ago about a grounding technique Talia used to use, apparently. The spell latches on to every point of entry and exit and seals it until the caster has decided to release it.”  
“Why is this on us?”  
“He wants us to make up.”  
“By locking us in a room? You have claustrophobia,” Peter frowned, reaching for Stiles and pulling him in close.  
“It's not too bad right now,” Stiles mumbled, taking a steadying breath before closing his eyes. “Derek wouldn't let me have a complete breakdown.”  
“Derek is a dick and he's going to be in deep shit after this,” Peter muttered, gently massaging the base of Stiles’ neck.  
“Can we actually talk? Real feelings?” Stiles sighed, looping his fingers through Peter’s belt loops and closing his eyes, focusing on his breathing.  
“You're on the verge of freaking out. I won't do it this way,” Peter murmured, kissing Stiles’ forehead before pulling out his phone. He dialed Derek’s number, glaring at the door between their rooms.  
“I'm not taking the spell off until you two make up,” Derek said once he picked up the phone.  
Peter growled quietly, massaging Stiles’ back between his shoulders. “Stiles is claustrophobic, Derek. I'm not having this conversation when he could only be saying these things because he's on the cusp of a mental breakdown!”  
“Fine,” Derek sighed. Peter heard some rustling on Derek’s side of the call before the lock between their rooms clicked open. “You two better talk, or you'll be the one hearing from me tomorrow.”  
“Sure, asswipe. You pull something like this again and shit will be the least of your problems.”

“Can we really talk?” Stiles asked hopefully. Peter looked up from his book after closing it, setting it on the table beside the bed they were sharing.  
“About what?”  
“The fact that I was such a dick when I came back because I was convinced you'd left me for Chris?” Stiles mumbled, staring at his lap and picking at his nails.  
“You think I'd leave you for Chris?”  
“It's not that far off of a fear. You've both been through hell, you've dealt with issues I can never imagine. You're the same age, you enjoy some of the same things, and you're always joking around together. I was scared I'd lost you to him,” Stiles whispered, hugging his knees to his chest.  
“I thought I'd lost you to someone your age. I guess it was easier for me to freak out because I could imagine anyone, a faceless person stealing you away while I'm not there to try to keep you,” Peter sighed, reaching for Stiles and tugging him against his chest. “We're both idiots that need help.”  
“We are,” Stiles sighed, cuddling up to Peter and closing his eyes. “I want us to try again, even with me going back this next semester. Please?”  
“How could I say no?” Peter murmured, kissing Stiles’ temple before tilting the emissary’s head back and kissing him softly, tugging him in closer.  
Stiles relaxed against Peter, kissing him back languidly.  
When they finally broke apart, Stiles sighed happily, letting his eyes fall closed again. “I love you.”


	9. This Is How I Disappear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To un-explain the unforgivable,  
> Drain all the blood and give the kids a show.  
> By streetlight this dark night,  
> A seance down below.  
> There're things that I have done,  
> You never should ever know!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>   
> 

“You’re sure you want to show off in this meeting? All of the larger packs are here,” Peter murmured, squeezing Stiles’ hand before pulling him out of the way of two tumbling kids being chased by their older sibling. He couldn't help but smile, rubbing his thumb in circles over the back of Stiles’ hand.  
“I need to. I've heard too much shit talking about you and our pack. I want to step up. I've heard people bragging about being able to mix potions properly. Derek did it on a whim, he broke it easily. I can make a bag of mountain ash last for ages. Hell, Peter, I shoot electricity from my hands, one of the few things that can be used to restrain and actually damage werewolves. I don't want anyone thinking we are a defenseless pack barely held together any more. Scott is dead, and that part of our past went with him. We are strong, organized, and have deep ties to each other. I'm not going to let some assfucker say we're nothing because our pack isn't immense, because we don't have a huge expanse of territory. You're a Hale, you've been through literal hell and back, and you're one of the most successful alphas in the world. I was possessed by an ancient demon, I had my body stolen from me. We are strong, and we lead our pack properly. If sending that message to others starts with me demonstrating my powers at a meeting, then so be it.”  
“You could have just said yes and I would have let it go,” Peter teased lightly, kissing his temple before leading Stiles inside to sit with the other demonstrators. As last minute sign-ups, they were going to be… last.  
Stiles did his best to be respectful, watching emissaries bring forth shaky mirages, pull water from the air around them before losing their concentration and dropping it a few seconds later. He didn't mean to be rude, but these were the same little shits who were talking down to him the other day. So, when it was his chance, he took every bit of drama in his body to show off. He dimmed the lights before letting them crackle and shut off. Concerned murmurs ran through the room before stopping as his hands lit up. Electricity crackling over Stiles’ skin, tracing patterns harmlessly up his arms before circling his face and centering at his eyes, giving them an eery glow. “My name is Mieczyslaw Stilinski, and I am the Hale pack emissary.” His voice carried farther than expected in the silent room, his darkness-adjusted eyes taking in the dumbstruck looks on the wolves, humans, and other supernaturals in the room. He kept the glow at his eyes, flicking his wrist and striking the ground with a bolt from his left arm, keeping his face neutral as he saw several wolves visibly flinch at the action. “I came into my powers a year after I accepted my place with my former alpha, and I've been growing them only recently, under Alpha Peter Hale. His encouragement and pride have helped me gain control of what I used to fear. Only a year ago I could only access my powers in times of emotional turmoil, accidentally lashing out in dangerous ways, sometimes to my advantage, and others to my horror. With the guidance of my alpha and his teachings, I am now able to work the wards of my pack’s territory, pinpointing Intruders and keeping tabs on my packmates. I can pull and surge electricity, harness kinetic energy and static electricity. I have learned potions, and have begun teaching my packmates.”  
Stiles pulled the surge he'd been releasing into the floor back towards his body as he felt Peter’s hand on his shoulder, dimming the light at his eyes as he let the electricity return to the lights in the room. “Thank you.”  
The room was silent for a few heavy seconds before Isaac got up and yelled, “That's my best friend! Go Stiles!”  
The rest of the pack joined in with wolf whistles and happy cries of his name, while the rest of the room clapped out of instinct, still stunned by what they'd just witnessed.  
They'd left an impression, indeed.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You were absolutely amazing at the presentation earlier today! I'm glad to see the Hale Pack is taking advantage of your abilities,” Marona, the emissary of a pack that dwelled within Death Valley, was smiling warmly at Stiles. “I've been glad to hear the changes Peter has brought to your pack, especially after the fire that happened so long ago. He has stepped up in one of the best ways, and training you so wonderfully? Please, give him my regards, and complements-everything! The two of you are lucky to be paired together.”  
“We truly are, Marona,” Peter smiled, stepping up from behind her with two drinks. He gave one to Stiles before taking a sip of his, then grimacing. “Their moonshine is a bit weak.”  
“Probably because they don't want a rowdy group of drunk werewolves, honey,” Stiles smirked, taking a sip of his glass before sighing happily. “You actually got me water, this time.”  
“Hey, now. I got distracted last time and didn't mean to pick up a vodka,” Peter smiled, moving to stand beside Peter as Marona’s alpha, London, joined them at the table.  
“I guess I falsely trusted that keen sense of smell of yours to pick it up,” Stiles smirked, booping Peter’s nose before taking another drink.  
“There are a lot of smells in this room, Stiles. Vodka would pale in comparison,” London chuckled. “I can barely pick out my emissary now, and she's not even a foot away.”  
“Let me tease him!” Stiles pouted playfully, smiling nonetheless as he leaned into Peter’s side, sighing happily.  
“So, can I ask you a question?” Peter looked to London, sipping on his drink.  
“Fire away.”  
“It may be a bit personal, but how do you manage having your emissary not as your significant other? I don't mean it in a degrading manner, I've just only ever heard of it, I'd never met an alpha who has done it.”  
“It takes a level of trust between my mate and myself, that he knows I have to trust her above all else, but that I love him above all else. She will know things in relation to the pack first, but he knows things in relation to me first. It's a balancing act that took years to perfect, but even still, we continue working on it to this day.”  
Peter nodded and glanced at Stiles, sliding an arm around his waist. “It was difficult watching him with our past alpha, mainly because he and I had very, _very_ different ideas on how to run a pack. Stiles would constantly be on edge around the both of us, and, admittedly, we were at fault for trying to get him to choose sides,” Peter murmured, shaking his head before looking back over at Marona and London. “You two are admirable for working it out like you do, and being so successful.”  
“I'd make a dig at you for saying that just because I'm a woman, but I know you respected your sister with a fierce loyalty, so I'll let the comment slide,” London smiled, tilting her head back and downing the rest of her drink in one go. “Now, if you don't mind, we're going to-”  
“Hunters! Evacuate the room!” Someone was at the door. Yelling. Panic was ensuing. People scrambling to find their pack, others shoving their way to the doors to get to their members that hadn't come to the event. Stiles nearly fell and got trampled, but Peter had an arm around his waist, steadying him and gathering their pack at the table. He was about to turn around when a shot rang through the room, sheetrock falling from the ceiling about ten feet away. The fifty or so people still in the room froze, and Stiles could feel his chest swelling with anger when he realized who it was. “Gerard Argent.”  
“Mr. Stilinski. What a surprise to see you here. And my disappointment of a son. Christopher, and your disgusting little pet. How convenient, I can kill you all at once.”  
“You're supposed to be dying,” Stiles muttered, shrugging off Peter’s hand and stalking towards Gerard. He shoved past the hunters pointing guns at him until he was face to face with the World's Greatest Asshole™.  
“Unfortunately for you, I was able to rid myself of the filthy poison your dead friend infected me with. I can't tell you how excited I was to receive the news that my apprentice took him out.”  
Stiles balled his hands into fists, the lights in the room crackling, a few close by fizzling out completely.  
“I heard about your little tricks, I can say I'm not impressed. You can flicker the lights. Too bad we have guns on your little pack, all of the other pieces of trash in here that will be victims that you couldn't-”  
Gerard stopped talking once Stiles shot bolts from the ground up, 7 exactly, to the farthest hunters from them, the humans falling lifeless to the floor.  
“Too bad I couldn't what?” He asked in a near growl, stalking closer to Gerard. He heard a gun cock and easily electrocuted the owner of said weapon in the same way. The fear that laced Gerard's eyes seemed to be feeding his anger, fueling it into a dark sense of pride. He finally had the upper hand. No longer was Stiles the weak human getting punched around. No longer did he have to sit back and watch this man torture his friends.  
“Peter?”  
“Yes, love?” The alpha asked, taking a sip of his moonshine with a proud smile.  
“You still have the old cave Kate used, yes?”  
“Of course I do. I've been saving it for the right occasion.”  
“Perfect.” Stiles looked back at Gerard, whipping out with his electricity and killing off the last few hunters, even the ones that had run to the door and were banging on the heavy wood, pleading to get out. “You don't get to die, just yet, Argent.”  
He saw it in slow motion, Gerard pulling the gun from his pocket and aiming it at Peter. Stiles couldn't help his devious grin when the bullet didn't fire when the hunter pulled the trigger. “It takes a spark to fire a gun. Too bad I'm the only one in the room.”


	10. Do I Wanna Know?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If this feeling flows both ways  
> Was sorta hoping that you'd stay  
> That the nights were mainly made for saying  
> things that you can't say tomorrow day  
> Crawlin' back to you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>   
> 

Stiles had been taking advantage of torturing Gerard. Of course, he used the advantage to get the location of some of the deadliest hunters, of cartels smuggling wolfsbane and imprisoned wolves. Their pack had grown with each free supernatural that chose to stay with them, under no pressure to do so, of course. They were supported in their endeavors by many packs, even across the country, in taking down the rings of hunters plaguing the landscape. Not every takedown was violent, in fact treaties were signed and respected, many hunter groups melding with packs and working together to better rid the unhealthy and inhuman supernatural creatures that were too far gone to be taken in.  
And Stiles had, admittedly, been abusing the power he had over Gerard, sometimes torturing him just for the hell of it, for all of the things he'd done to him, his pack, and anything unknown that he'd eradicated out of pure hate. Peter warned him, when Stiles asked, if he could kill Gerard. He warned him of the feelings that would flood him and plague his mind, that it wouldn't be as easy to comprehend as the Nogitsune had been. This would be someone dying Stiles’ hands of his own free will, of his own choosing and method.  
Stiles should have listened. He'd been okay, at first. Or maybe he was able to fool himself for a couple of hours. But he kept needing to wash his hands, rid himself of some unseen filth that was bugging the life out of him.  
He'd just snapped. Gerard had made a comment about Samantha, how Peter had abandoned and forsaken her image when he took Stiles in all of his filth as a new mate. In under a second Stiles struck him dead, seething with anger… and fear.  
His dreams had been plagued with a faceless woman, screaming at him for stealing her husband away. Of a demon taking over and telling him to apologize for replacing her, for disgracing her image by being with Peter. Of a fire blazing through the territory, the screams of a blurry figure engulfed by flames, Stiles powerless to stop it. He was erasing the memory of Samantha by being with Peter, and it was starting to tear him apart.

He left for his second year with a note to Peter, telling him he'd killed Gerard and realized something about himself.  
That's when the texts started for Peter, but were never replied to.

A quick text expressing his concern and hopes Stiles made it to campus safe, that he loves and forgives him. _Read_  
A goodnight text. _Read_  
A good morning text, a picture of the toddlers they'd rescued a couple of months ago playing with their adoptive mom. _Read_  
'I hope you're safe and your studies are going well’ _Read_  
'Derek finally perfected the potion to hide scents’ _Read_  
'The storm knocked out the electricity and it was weird without you here to give us power’ _Read_  
'I know it's the anniversary today. I took her some baby’s breath and the card you mailed’ _Read_  
'Isaac misses you. He made peanut chicken today for your birthday before realizing you wouldn't be home.’ _Read_  
'I miss you. Please answer me.’ _Read_  
'It was shitty of you not to come back for Thanksgiving, but Christmas? Really?’ Peter saw three dots appear and stay up for a while before disappearing again, leaving his screen with nothing but a _Read_.  
'Will I get to see you for Valentine's Day?’ _Read_

But Peter had had it. He shut the door to his office and dialed Stiles’ number, pacing back and forth angrily. When he heard the beep of Stiles answering, he gave the emissary no time to speak, jumping right in. “You've been a downright asshole to me. And to the pack. Isaac waited all night on his birthday. The kids waited for you at Christmas. We kept you a plate at Thanksgiving. You disappeared and then spoke to no one. What the hell, Stiles? I thought you were over this! I thought we agreed to stop running from our problems like this! And don't tell me it's because you killed Gerard. You should've talked to me about it. But I also know something that mediocre wouldn't be a good enough reason for you to ignore my goodnight texts, my well wishes, Chris’ and Derek’s and Isaac’s and Lydia’s and Erica’s and Boyd’s and Kira’s and Jackson’s- even Jackson is worried about you! The kids keep asking when you'll come back, I have treaties waiting to be discussed and agreed to. You left so much with so little of a reason, and no goodbye. You left me-” Peter's voice broke, and he flopped down in his office chair, not even trying to fight the tears at this point. “You left me,” he repeated in a whisper, his shoulders shaking as he tried to take a deep breath.  
Stiles was silent on the other end of the phone for a few agonizing seconds, to the point Peter thought he'd hung up, but then Stiles spoke.  
“I'm killing Samantha.”  
His voice was so quiet, tired, shaky. He was oozing guilt, and Peter could already picture what his mate looked like. Hollowed out eyes, pale skin, the glint to his eye completely gone.  
“She's already dead, Stiles. How are you killing her?”  
“I'm killing her memory. By being with you. She was your mate, your love. You had a kid with her, you watched her die. You kept her memory alive. But I'm disgracing that, stealing your love away from your mate-”  
“Stiles, _you’re_ my mate,” Peter interrupted him in a rush of air, sitting up in his chair. “You are my mate, Stiles. My loving you is no disgrace to her memory. It is an acceptance that she is gone. I love her no less, even if I love you. You are killing no one. Is this… is that why you left? You thought you were killing her all over again?”  
“I couldn't do that to you,” Stiles whispered, his voice shaking with the tears that had to be streaming down his face. “She's your love, Peter, your wife. I’m killing her-”  
Peter took the moment Stiles’ voice broke to start speaking again. “Listen up, you self-deprecating piece of idiot that I love more than anything else in the world. Shut your thoughts off right now, do you hear me? It's not a rhetorical question.”  
“I'm listening,” Stiles mumbled, his voice still shaking.  
“Listen to me, and listen to me well. You are my mate. I loved Samantha, but she was not my mate. She was a woman I loved and settled down with because I didn't believe I ever would have a mate. But me being with you, loving you and wanting to do all of the things I want with you - that is absolutely not disrespectful to her image. For me to be able to move on, to love you like I do, to cherish you and want a future with you, is what she would have wanted.  
“You are a brilliant young man, a talented spark and the best mate I could ask for. You are very aware of how you interact with everyone around you, in tune with people in a way I could never be. Which is why I'm sorry I never caught on to this before you told me. It makes sense. You want to keep Samantha alive because you think it's what I want.  
“But I don't want that, Stiles. I want you. Sammie is dead, she's gone and we can't reverse that. We also can't live in the past, or live in a way that hinders growth and progress. I love you, I'm in love with you, you are my mate, Stiles, and I won't apologize for that. She would want the both of us to be together and be happy. So the next time that darkness tries to take over and tell you that you're killing her, remind it of all of the times you've visited her grave with me. All of the times you've taken her flowers when I was busy, of the pictures you found in the lockup at the station and got for me.  
“You are my new love, Stiles, but that doesn't mean you've killed her off.”  
Peter could hear Stiles’ uneven and shaky breaths, the rustling of him wiping away tears and sniffling, blowing his nose and trying to hold back a broken sob.  
“I'm your mate?” He finally whispered, his heart fluttering before he choked on another sob. Peter smiled tiredly as he responded. “Yes, baby. You're my mate. My true love. My destiny. All of the crappy, cheesy metaphors. That's you.”  
He let Stiles try to regain his composure, this time the sobs were a little more contained and the sniffles occurred less often.  
“You're in love with me? You don't just love me, you're _in love_ with me?”  
“I said that, didn't I?” Peter smiled, leaning back in his chair, a warm feeling blossoming in his chest.  
“Yeah. Do you need to take it back? I sound pretty gross right now,” Stiles tried joking, a wet laugh followed by a cough making Peter both grimace and chuckle.  
“I wouldn't take it back for the world. Even if you snorted your gross crying mucus over the phone, I'd still proudly say I'm in love with you.”  
“Don't go giving me ideas, babe,” Stiles murmured before blowing his nose, and Peter swore he could hear his smile through the phone.  
“Does this mean you'll start texting us all back? Maybe even come home over spring break?” Peter asked softly. “The blanket doesn't smell like you anymore, and it just… isn't the same.”  
“I'll be home for spring break for sure. I'll try to text, but it will be hard to get back into it.”  
“Can we start, maybe, with just a goodnight back and forth? Maybe even a good morning?”  
“I think that's doable,” Stiles sighed out.  
“How about we start now? I'm about to have to put the kids down. Goodnight.”  
“Goodnight,” Stiles paused, then cleared his throat. “I love you, and I hope you have the sweetest of dreams. I'll see you soon.”  
“I love you, too, baby. Get some rest.”


	11. Believer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By the grace of the fire and the flames  
> You're the face of the future, the blood in my veins, oh ooh  
> The blood in my veins, oh ooh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>   
> 

When Stiles came back the first day of spring break, he was greeted at the door of the loft by excited cheers and whoops from his pack and family, from the people who loved and missed him.  
He set his duffle bag on the ground and crouched down to let the twins tackle him in a hug, the two wolf pups wrapping their arms around his neck and holding on to him tightly.  
“We missed you, Uncle Micky!”  
“Yeah, you were gone for too long! Don't ever do that again!” Sierra, the little girl pouted, nuzzling Stiles’ cheek.  
“You don't smell like us, and it's icky. I don't like it,” Danny grumbled, grabbing Stiles’ face between his hands and making the emissary look at him. “Promise me no more leaving for that long!”  
“Only if you say please,” Stiles smiled, ruffling both of their hair.  
“Please?” They both asked in unison, giving Stiles their biggest puppy faces.  
“How could I say no to those cute little faces?” Stiles grinned, kissing each of them on the forehead before standing.  
He greeted each of his packmates, hugging and shaking hands and just holding whenever needed. Erica decided he needed a smack to the back of his head before she pulled him in, squeezing tight and whispering a shaky, “Don't you ever fucking pull something like that again, you asshole.”  
Stiles apologized and combed through her hair, kissing her forehead.  
Isaac was the next to scoop Stiles up, pressing his face in the crook between his neck and shoulder. “I missed you. A lot.”  
“I know, buddy. I'm sorry,” Stiles whispered, wrapping Isaac up and nuzzling his cheek when he finally stood up. “I have your birthday present, though. I'll give it to you later.”  
Isaac smiled excitedly, nuzzling against Stiles’ cheek before stepping aside, looking to where Peter was leaning against the kitchen entryway, looking at Stiles with a small, expectant smirk.  
The emissary made his way over to him, pressing himself close as he wrapped his arms around Peter's waist. “I missed you.”  
“Hmm. I missed you, too,” Peter murmured, engulfing Stiles in a tight hug before connecting their lips in a sweet kiss. They both smiled when the twins made a loud “Ew!” noise, but Peter just hid their faces behind his arms, gently nipping at Stiles’ lower lip before reluctantly breaking the kiss.  
“I love you.”  
“I love you, too.”

“What’s for dinner tonight?” Stiles asked quietly, sidling up to Peter in the kitchen. They had the loft to themselves for the night, and his boyfriend had apparently made plans for the evening for the two of them.  
“I'm teaching you how to make sushi.”  
“Oh. Do you think I have the patience for it?” Stiles frowned slightly, glancing at the many ingredients set out on the counter.  
“I plan on giving you the constant attention tasks, such as slicing the vegetables and preparing the shrimp,” Peter smiled, turning to kiss Stiles, crowding him against the counter as he did so.  
The emissary grinned into the kiss, his arms looping around Peter’s neck as he kissed back, leaning into his warmth.  
“That being said,” Peter murmured after breaking the kiss, smiling fondly at Stiles, “You have to make sure you cut everything to size.”  
“I think I can handle that,” Stiles grinned, pressing a soft kiss to Peter’s lips before turning around, still caged in by his mate, and grabbed the knife and vegetables. “How am I doing this?”  
“Well, if you'll allow me to be cheesy,” Peter smiled, pressing himself flush against Stiles’ back before he reached for the cucumber. He put his hand over Stiles’ to hold it in place, his other hand guiding his mate’s as he sliced the vegetable into thin, long spears.  
Stiles’ heart was beating loudly, as Peter was sure his own was, and he bent down to kiss over Stiles’ neck when they finished.  
“While I'm enjoying the attention, doesn't the rice need the vinegar and sugar right about now?” He asked with a small smile, laughing as Peter seemed to jump at the realization and rush to put the ingredients in.  
“You've made sushi before?”  
“No, I just remember watching you make it,” Stiles smiled, getting to work on cutting the carrots in the same way he'd cut the cucumbers.  
“So you didn't need my help?” Peter perked his brow, looking over at Stiles as he stirred the rice.  
“Need? No. Want? Maybe,” He smiled, leaning over to kiss the alpha’s cheek before he started shelling the shrimp.  
“You're a little devil.”  
“Is that really an issue in this moment? It gave you an excuse to feel me up,” Stiles smirked, setting the shrimp in a bowl before putting them in the fridge, along with the vegetables.  
“You have a valid point. However,” Peter murmured, transferring the sticky rice to a Tupperware on the counter to cool. “I planned on feeling you up properly while I waited for this rice to cool down.”  
“You think we have that much time?” Stiles smirked, biting his lip as Peter practically stalked over to him, grinning deviously.  
“Oh, honey, it won't take that long at all.”  
“While I'd like to pretend to be offended at that-” Stiles paused as his voice cracked, breath hitching as Peter grabbed his hips and attached his lips to his neck. “-I know you won't have a problem making that happen.”  
Peter smirked after he finished the mark, his hands gravitating to Stiles’ ass and giving it a squeeze. “Look at you, Mr. Almost A College Graduate. Seems like that education is starting to pay off.”  
“I don't need a college degree to know you can get me off quickly, Peter,” Stiles laughed quietly, lifting his boyfriend's face up for a proper kiss. He moaned softly as Peter pulled his sweats down a little, just enough to palm his dick through his boxers.  
Stiles was panting as he tangled his fingers in Peter’s hair, tugging lightly before licking into his mouth, the two of them moaning happily as he did so.  
He broke the kiss when Peter pushed his hand in his boxers, grabbing his wrist and shaking his head. “I have a better idea.”  
“And what could that be?” Peter chuckled. Stiles only answered him by dropping to his knees and unbuttoning the wolf’s jeans, biting his lip. “Oh?”  
“I really want to,” Stiles nodded, looking up at Peter as he mouthed over the head of his dick through his boxers. The alpha moaned softly, tangling his fingers in Stiles’ hair as he pressed his hips forward. “Then don't tease, get to it.”  
Stiles was all too happy to oblige, pulling Peter’s boxers down. He sat for a minute, staring at his dick before letting out a soft whimper, leaning forward to lick over the head. “You're so fucking me tonight. I need it.”  
Peter growled softly in response, grabbing the base of his dick and guiding it towards Stiles’ open mouth. “Give me a reason to. Convince me you really want it.”  
Stiles looked up at Peter after the statement, his eyes glinting with mischief before he surged forward and took his dick in his mouth all at once, gagging, but holding himself still nonetheless.  
Peter felt as if the wind had been knocked from his lungs, a needy whine escaping his lips as Stiles pulled back to suck on the tip, his hand coming up to stroke the shaft.  
“I think that's a good first step, don't you, baby?” Stiles smirked, his voice raspy, those sinful lips brushing over Peter’s tip with every word.  
He took a second to regain his composure before finally responding with a smirk. “No.”  
“Really?” Stiles smirked, licking up the underside of Peter’s dick before swirling his tongue over the tip. “What would a good first step be?”  
“Begging.”  
“Oh?” Stiles licked his lips, his pupils going wide as he stared up at Peter.  
The alpha only gave him an expectant look, gently massaging his scalp.  
Stiles narrowed his eyes slightly before taking Peter’s dick back in his mouth, closing his eyes as he bobbed his head eagerly, cheeks hollowed and tongue taking every chance to tease the head when he needed to take a breather. He stopped when he could hear Peter panting, letting the head of his dick rest against his cheek as he looked up at his boyfriend. “I want you to fuck me tonight. I want you to take me upstairs and push me down on our bed, kiss me breathless. And then I want you to undress me, kiss me all over like you always do. And finger me open,” Stiles paused, his breathing going ragged before he leaned forward, taking Peter’s dick all of the way into his mouth, swallowing around the girth and massaging his own cock through his boxers.  
He pulled off with an exaggerated popping sound, preening when Peter's grip tightened on his hair. “I love your fucking fingers, Peter. God, they feel so fucking good, feel so much better than my own. You always know where to go, where to touch and how to make me feel good. Fucking hell, fuck, I want you to finger me tonight,” Stiles gasped out, whimpering softly at the images flooding his mind before he leaned forward and started bobbing his head again, his hand on his dick moving to the same pace. Peter was moaning happily, panting, pupils blown as he watched Stiles’ mouth working. When he pulled off again, the alpha couldn't help his soft whine in protest, Stiles’ smirk sending a shiver down his spine.  
“And then when you finally, _finally_ decide I'm ready, and you lean over me-” Stiles gasped, scraping his teeth over Peter’s thigh as he kept working his hand over his cock. “Fuck, when you lean over me and hold me down, kiss me, grab my thighs- god, fuck, Peter, it always makes me feel so safe and that much hotter.”  
Peter growled softly, his own breath hitching at Stiles’ words.  
The emissary leaned forward and deep throated his dick again, his soft whimpers, causing Peter to jerk his hips forward with a choked-off moan. Stiles gagged but held himself still, eyes watering as he looks up at Peter, swallowing around his size. The alpha growled quietly again, his free hand reaching to press against the mark he'd left on Stiles’ neck earlier. He held his head in place as he pulled his hips back, his stomach twisting with arousal when Stiles tried to follow the movement, not yet ready to let Peter’s dick out of his mouth.  
“Hey, hey, tell me how you want me to fuck you, tonight, baby,” Peter panted, moaning softly as Stiles’ free hand moved moved to start pumping his shaft, his eyes blown.  
“Want you deep, all the way in. Want you to make me feel good, go nice and face. Maybe even choke me a little. Just want you to hold me down and fuck me, you fuck me so good. You go deep and get all the right places, you make sure I feel it the next day. And I love when you hold my hips, give me bruises where your fingers were. You get so quiet, just growling quietly and whispering my name like I'm some kind of treasure. And then you lean in real close and kiss me, and that's always when it gets good. You just… let go and fuck me, pound me into the mattress. It feels so good when you do that. Peter, please, I want you to fuck me to-”  
Peter cut Stiles off with a quiet cry of his name, his hips jerking as he came, his spunk all over Stiles’ fist and lips.  
“Holy shit, baby,” He panted, hands shaking slightly as he cupped Stiles’ cheek. The emissary whimpered quietly and sucked Peter’s thumb into his mouth as he sped his hand up on his own dick, cumming with a quiet moan of Peter’s name around his finger, nuzzling into his palm.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Stiles came down the next morning, Chris was at the table with Peter, the two of them drinking coffee and looking over a spread of papers. He smiled at Derek as he grabbed a mug for coffee.  
“Don't smile at me.”  
“Ooh, sourwolf is grumpy already! What's wrong?” Stiles cooed, cuddling up to Derek where he was doing the dishes.  
“The two dumbasses that kicked Chris and I out to have the loft to themselves didn't do their dishes.”  
“We got distracted,” Stiles shrugged, leaning up to nuzzle Derek’s cheek and grinning when he received a half-hearted growl in response. When he moved to step away, the wolf huffed and pulled Stiles in for a hug, nuzzling at his neck.  
“So, are you cuddly when you're upset, now?” Stiles teased him gently, combing his fingers through Derek’s hair.  
“Only with you. I missed you,” He muttered, nuzzling against Stiles’ cheek before standing up straight again and playfully pushing at his shoulder. “Now, get out of here so I can finish cleaning up your mess.”


	12. Weapon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here by my side a new color to paint the world  
> Never turn your back on it  
> Never turn your back on it again  
> Here by my side it's heaven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>   
> 

It was one of those perfect mornings, Peter waking up to Stiles’ body laid across his, snoring softly. He couldn't help his quiet, happy rumble, combing through his mate’s hair.  
The light that managed to break into the room around their heavy curtains highlighted Stiles’ high cheekbones and sharp brow bone, his lashes casting a shadow across his cheeks.  
“If I open my eyes and you're giving me heart eyes, I'm gonna kiss you so hard,” Stiles rasped, tilting his head up to smile at his boyfriend.  
“Guess you have to kiss me,” Peter murmured, cupping Stiles’ cheek as he leaned up and connected their lips, the two of them smiling.  
The faint rustle of the sheets was the only sound accompanying their happy sighs, Peter rolling them over to crouch over him.  
They broke apart and Stiles wrapped an arm around his neck. “I love you.”  
“I love you, too,” Peter murmured, pouting slightly as Stiles moved to sit up in bed.  
“There's a small conference before you head back for your graduation ceremony tomorrow. Everyone keeps asking if you'll be there,” Peter murmured, kissing Stiles and pulling him back to lay on the bed.  
“Happily, babe, if you'll let me get dressed,” Stiles chuckled, maneuvering himself to sit atop Peter, splaying his hands out over his pecks. “Do you think you could let me do that?”  
“I don't know,” Peter smirked, holding Stiles’ hips. “You look just fine like this right now.”  
“I'm not presentable to anyone but you right now,” Stiles laughed, leaning down and kissing right over Peter's heart.  
“I'm okay with that,” Peter smirked, wrapping his hand around the back of Stiles’ neck and pulling him in for a deep kiss.  
“But I'm not. I have an appearance to keep, baby,” Stiles chuckled, sitting up before getting off the bed, easily stepping out of Peter’s range of grab-ability.  
“You're a menace.”  
“You love it.”  
“No, I love _you_. Your attitude is an add-on I didn't accept, but have come to treasure.”  
“Shut the fuck up and help me get dressed.”

Peter made it downstairs after Stiles, deciding to shave and spending a solid ten minutes alone upstairs preparing himself for the chaos that would be downstairs. He enjoyed these meetings, yes, but sometimes the polite smiles and small talk grated on his nerves. He wished they weren't so successful, weren't in everyone's range of view so some days he could just wake up and spend the day with Stiles in nothing but sweat pants and ratty old tees. But Stiles had followed Peter’s ambition, drove them to power and grown to flourish with the attention he was constantly under. Which is why Peter sat back and simply observed the interactions, a warmth blossoming his chest as he watched his mate properly navigate the touchy landscape of a territorial conference.  
He was shaking hands and kissing knuckles when necessary, accepting and delving out praises to each person he stopped to chat with. He accepted praises for his actions at the convention, thanking and reminding each person of their open agreement and protection clause.  
When Stiles came in contact with Marona and London, he was practically radiating pure sunshine as he hugged the two women, holding them tight. They'd discovered Marona was attending the same college as Stiles, and the two decided to find an apartment off campus for the rest of the spring semester, growing close and growing their packs closer in the process.  
Stiles waved Peter over and he begrudgingly obliged, settling himself comfortably against Stiles’ side and kissing his cheek. “You beckoned me, your Royal Highness?”  
London and Marona laughed quietly, both of them reaching to give Peter a polite side hug.  
“And why am I graced with your presence today, ladies?”  
“We want an official treaty with your pack.”  
London’s jaw was set, her chest puffed and her chin up.  
“I was not aware we needed anything in writing. I hoped you knew that our home is open to you and your pack in the instance you need it,” Peter frowned slightly, reaching for the female alpha’s hand and squeezing it.  
She smiled softly, relaxing her stance a little. “But for my pack, I would like to make this public. I want everyone to know of our friendship, that if they mess with you, they're messing with the Devilles of Death Valley.”

 

* * *

 

 

Peter set down the treaty Stiles had written up to have between the Hale and Deville packs, turning his attention instead to the house plans he'd been drawing up.  
Stiles was asleep with his head in Peter's lap, his face nuzzled against his tummy, soft snores filling the otherwise silent space. Derek was out with Chris, most likely getting proposed to at this very moment. He'd decided a cottage on the preserve would be his wedding gift to his nephew, and Stiles had encouraged the idea since day one.  
Peter remembered all of the things Derek had talked about having in a house, both before and after the fire.  
A bay window to settle against on sunny or rainy days and curl up with a good book or dog. A cozy space, not too open, but not too cramped. A small kitchen, because neither he nor Chris enjoyed cooking, and it would be a waste to pretend otherwise. They would rather go all out on the outside of the house, a wrap around porch with an awning over the back and front doors. A hot tub under shade, right off the back porch, and a glistening pool stretching the length of their house. He knew a basement would be beneficial to the two of them, Chris with his arsenal and Derek with his potions he took up. A fire place in the living room and their bedroom, a walk-in closet that wrapped around the wall behind their bed- a hallway closet that was actually a hallway made into a closet.  
And that's what Peter was giving Derek. A space to live away from the chaos that now surrounds the loft, being free from constant interruptions and walk-ins, visits of new packs and declarations of peace.

“You are aware I've never wielded a hammer before today?” Stiles grinned, sauntering over to Peter with said tool swinging at his side.  
“Why am I not surprised?” Peter chuckled, shaking his head in amusement.  
“Because I'm erratic and clumsy, and you're honestly an idiot for trusting me with it.”  
“I'm not trusting you with the hammer, more so that you will do your best to make sure this house is the best thing that Derek will ever receive from us, and trusting that you will do everything in your ability to make sure it's perfect.”  
Stiles ducked his head down and nodded, his cheeks going a soft shade of pink. Peter smirked and pulled him in for a kiss, humming happily. “I take it my trust is well placed?”  
“You know I want Derek to be happy. But construction is not my thing. Too many sharp and heavy objects that I could easily make do the wrong thing.”  
“I seem to recall having a similar conversation about your powers when I first tried to start training you. Wasn't it that you had too much power to wield, and trusting you with it would prove to be deadly? Yet here you are today, the most powerful emissary on the west coast, more in tune with your powers than others years older could ever dream to be.”  
“It's because I had you by my side,” Stiles shrugged, trying not to meet Peter’s gaze as his cheeks turned a brighter shade of pink.  
“And you have me now. I think I can trust you to put the frame together. Power tools are easy to use, and the frame is already clamped together.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Peter, why are we all the way out here?” Derek sighed, trudging behind his alpha and emissary, his fiance at his side.  
“Because we have a surprise. Now shut up and be grateful, or you can let us have it, instead?”  
Derek rolled his eyes, huffing impatiently when he ran into Stiles. “Seriously? Have wha-”  
Peter smirked as his nephew trailed off, taking in the cottage in front of him.  
The white bricks complemented the wooden trim and roofing, the fall light that made it through the dying canopy of multicolored leaves casting beautiful shapes across the architecture. Chris was grinning, watching Derek as he walked towards the building, simply awestruck. “What is this?”  
“Your new home,” Stiles smiled, taking Peter’s hand and lacing their fingers together.  
“I… what?”  
“It's our new home, Derek. Everything we said we wanted, and they gave it to us,” Chris murmured, turning to Peter and Stiles. “I can't believe you two did this.”  
“Don't you dare cry on me, Chris,” Stiles whispered, dropping Peter's hand before engulfing the older man in a hug, squeezing him tight. “You don't get to cry, because then I'll cry, and nobody wants to see that.”  
“Who said I was crying?” Chris retorted weakly. “You're crying.”  
Derek laughed quietly, stepping up to Chris when Stiles finally released him from the hug. “How did I get so lucky to have someone like you?”  
“Your uncle set you up,” Peter stage whispered, ducking a smack to his head from Stiles.  
“Come on, asshole. We need to let the lovebirds break their house in.”


	13. Tangled Up In You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're the light that helps me find my way  
> You're the words when I have nothing to say  
> And in this world where nothing else is true  
> Here I am still tangled up in you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>   
> 

Everyone was running around in a panic, new and old pack members alike in a flurry to make today the best of the best. Two souls joining as one, living together in harmony and holy matrimony, making a statement to their local government and close family and friends.  
A union that caused a great deal of uproar, of pride and disgust, but fueled by nothing other than absolute love.  
Peter and Stiles were happy for Derek and Chris, the two of them coordinating the wedding, much to Lydia’s chagrin. It worked out, though. The flowers were elegant, yet soft. The tables set to a modest meal, quiet piano drifting through the dining hall and out the doors to where the ceremony was being held. Stiles had gotten himself ordained ages ago, after the first time he'd been asked to officiate a wedding. He'd joked that he only got the certificate because he knew he'd be the one to wed Chris and Derek, who'd both rolled their eyes at the statement, but neither of them denied it.  
And it was now, Stiles standing between the two husbands to be, that the emotions finally caught up to him and he began tearing up as he listed through each of their simple vows. Of sickness and in health, rich or poor. Chris had cried when Derek walked down the aisle, Derek had shed tears when Chris recited his vows. Chris only cried more when Derek recited his own. But now, just as he was about to wrap it up, tears began falling down Stiles’ own face. “I now pronounce you, husband and husband, Mr. and Mr. Argent. Please, kiss your groom.”  
The shower of baby’s breath petals as they did is when Stiles truly lost it, covering his face with his hands as he felt such an extreme happiness wash over him. As the attendees broke into cheers, Peter reached for Stiles and pulled him in close.  
“I can't wait for ours, one day,” He whispered, brushing a few tears away and smiling lovingly at his mate. “I can't wait to proclaim my love for you in front of everyone like this, and to hear you do the same. To officially be each other's.”  
All Stiles could do was nod, fisting Peter’s shirt before pulling him in for a passionate kiss, pressing himself close. He ended it almost as quickly as he'd started it, though, leaning their foreheads together. “I fucking love you, Peter. I don't need a wedding to let the world know. I'm yours, you're mine, we've finally got our shit together, and we're happy. That's all I need. All I could ever need from you.”


End file.
